Ana's Choice
by lulu-ny
Summary: Ana Steele and Christian Grey each experience a traumatic event in childhood that helps shape who they become later in life. Now adults, they meet for the first time: Christian is a businessman who wields power like a rapier, Ana, a beautiful graduate student trying to make her mark in the world. Will their secrets from the past threaten their one shot at profound love?
1. Chapter 1

7

7

CHAPTER 1

The two women, one blond and one brunette, stood in the gallery of the Seattle Art Museum gaping at the depictions of hell in front of them.

"I'm going to have wicked nightmares," the pretty blond woman named Kate exclaimed as she stared at the Hieronymus Bosch painting.

Standing right beside her, Ana shuddered as an icy chill tore straight up her spine. "Yes, nightmares but, oh my God, Kate, these are unspeakably beautiful, too. I never thought I'd be able to see them up close and personal."

Kate shook her head at Ana's assessment of the paintings and looked around. Noticing an elderly man with a sour-puss face give her a dirty look, she dropped the volume of her voice to a whisper. "It's amazing that the curator was able to round up so many of them in one room—they're housed all over the world in different museums."

"I know. The Prado in Spain loaned Bosch's "Garden of Earthly Delights" although I think I'd rather have an excuse to go to Madrid, frankly," Ana whispered back, unable to tear her eyes from the work.

"Now you're talking! Hey, we should plan a trip this summer together. Let's talk about that later. Is Professor Blake here yet?" Kate again craned her head to scan the large gallery.

Ana shrugged in response, "I haven't seen him yet."

"Do you think he actually believes he's related to the Blake who created the Divine Comedy illustrations?" Kate asked.

Now it was Ana who was amused, giggling at the idea of the pompous professor laying claim to such an illustrious—no pun intended—connection. "I can almost hear the Aeolian harp in the background accompanying him as he strolls about the gallery."

Kate looped her arm through her friend's, as Ana continued to gape at the painting. "Are we meeting Jose for dinner tonight?"

"Not sure. He said to call him when we were done here. He had a major exam today in his Civil and Environmental engineering class that he was angsting over. I'm sure he'll ace the test—he always does. The man is annoyingly brilliant."

"Is that why he's in love with you, Ana?"

The dark-haired young woman shook her head, exhausted. "Quite."

Ana tugged on Kate's blond hair affectionately, as they moved on to the next painting. Kate was working toward her MBA while Ana was about to attain her prized MFA, so they were never in the same class but Kate had an elective to burn and took the art history class with Ana for fun. They both wanted in on Professor Blake's _Hell in Art_ seminar, if only to gape slack-jawed at the divine art of the professor's beauty. The man was incredibly handsome but also easily the most arrogant snob on campus: erudite, even brilliant, true, but ever so sorely lacking in personal charm.

In truth, though, Ana would have taken the course if anyone decent were teaching it. The topic fascinated her, stretching across centuries from the Renaissance to the nineteenth century, focusing on depictions— the most terrifying depictions—of hell and the demons who inhabit it. This seminar was actually predicated on this specific exhibit at the museum so students would be able to view the works in question in one room, a coup in and of itself amazing. In one gallery stood the masterpieces of Blake, Bosch, Bouguereau, Grunewald, and Goya.

"Speaking of crushing on someone, look what the cat just dragged in and he's ogling you, Ana. Once again. This is getting tiresome, really."

Ana rolled her eyes. Kate always believed that all the men were panting after Ana. Ridiculous really, especially since Kate herself resembled a beauty queen on steroids, with a killer body and long silvery blond ringlets all over her head.

"Uh-oh," Kate whispers, "don't look now but at two o'clock here he comes.

Geoffrey Blake strolled directly toward the two young women. "Ladies," he nodded. Piercing eyes traveled over both girls. Blake's eyes were so light and eerie they defied description, even one as basic as color. Were they blue? Green? Grey? The answer to all three questions was yes. Depending on how the light hit them, they appeared to change color. One female student, in a sorry attempt to flirt with the man, had the temerity to ask him in front of the other students exactly what color his eyes were. Blake turned a sardonic face to her, lip curled in sneering contempt, and said, "If you're too stupid as to be incapable of discerning the difference between green and blue, what are you doing in a graduate art class where color is a most important consideration when assessing and appreciating the art in question. Might I suggest you take up accounting?"

With that curt and nasty response, he turned on his heel, gathered up his class notes, and stalked out of the classroom, leaving the poor girl, her mouth hanging open, her cheeks flushed with blood, humiliated. Once she collected herself to move, she marched directly to the registrar's office and promptly dropped the class.

Now he eyed Kate and Ana, his attention fixated on the students instead of the art with which they were engaged. "What is your opinion thus far, ladies? Does the show meet your expectations or leave you wanting?"

Ana blushed at the haughty professor's direct attention. "For my part, it exceeds rather than merely meets my expectations. I'm especially enthralled with Blake's interpretation of the Divine Comedy but Goya's demon will almost certainly give me nightmares."

"Yes," he agreed, his gaze locked on the slim brunette student. Lately he'd been having a very difficult time looking at anyone or anything else when Anastasia Steele was in his lecture hall. The girl was simply exquisite, easily competing with all the art masterpieces dedicated to feminine beauty. Her friend Kate wasn't half bad either, but Blake gravitated to Ana and her blushing beauty as if by siren call. He sighed when he realized that nothing could come of his infatuation as it would violate the college's non-fraternization policy. More's the pity, he thought, as he wondered if the pale, near-flawless skin on her face was repeated all over her body and other much dirtier contemplations. It was time to leave.

"His work is indeed enthralling." The professor's arm gestured across the gallery. "I hope all my students realize how exceptional is this exhibit and the level of difficulty the curator prevailed over in procuring all of the works to bring it to the adoring public."

Ana nodded, a small smile gracing her roseate lips. "Yes, Kate and I were just speaking of that very realization a few minutes ago."

"Very good," Blake said, nodding at the girls before he moved on to other students dispersed throughout the room.

Later they met up with Jose at a Mexican restaurant near the museum. Over a pitcher of Margaritas, Jose elbowed Ana. "You mentioned you needed extra money for interview clothes?"

She nodded her assent, her mouth full of tortilla chips. "Mmmhmm. Why?"

"You've waitressed before, right? In Portland, I seem to recall you telling me?"

"Yes. For two years. Hated it though."

Jose chuckled. "Yeah, well, get in line. But I have a pretty good gig coming up where you can make real money. Interested?"

"Tell me more," Ana prompted, grinning when a big splat of salsa fell just shy of Jose's mouth.

He gave up for the moment and plopped the dry tortilla chip into his mouth. "I work part-time for a catering company, mainly because it's off the books and the food is really good. Anyway, the company is catering a big swanky party for some hotshot executive celebrating a big deal. The party is huge, over five hundred guests and we need extra help. Would you be interested, Ana?"

"When and where?"

"It's this week and it's at the Four Seasons. Friday night. You just have to wear black slacks or skirt and a white shirt. What do you say?"

"Count me in. How much can I expect to earn?"

"The pay is twelve dollars an hour but tips are usually great at these types of events, especially if they liquor up real good. You can easily garner five bills in tips."

Ana's brows shot up. "Really? Oh, Jose, that would be great. Yes, I'll do it."

Clapping her hands together, Kate chastised them. "Alright. Enough about boring things like jobs. Let's talk about Professor Blake and how he's crushing on our little Ana."

Ana rolled her eyes. "Kate, you just won't give up, will you?"

But Jose got a look in his eyes, a glint of annoyance. The 5'9" muscle-bound Latino had known Ana since the first week he'd arrived in Seattle from L.A. two years before. He knew immediately he liked the slim, beautiful girl with the huge blue eyes but he sensed she wasn't looking for any romantic entanglement so he lay low, waiting and being a good friend to her. But he'd be damned if he'd just step aside and let some asshole professor have at her without at least trying himself. Ana was the rarest of gems.

"By the way, you two. My kid sister is coming up from Cali. Lola was getting involved with bad people, gangs, and shit and my moms was going nuts. Then this famous L.A. artist came along and opened an art school for inner city teens with artistic talent and now Lola is selling her paintings for hundreds of dollars and keeping her nose clean. Anyway, she's coming up for a visit and I wondered if you two could help me out with her," he looked sheepishly at the young women, his best friends in Seattle.

Kate's bubbly laugh rang out. "Of course, Jose, we'd love to. Wouldn't we, Ana?"

Ana smiled, nodding, her cheeks pink from imbibing a bit too much tequila. "Definitely," she added. "I can't wait to meet Lola."

Once they polished off the pitcher of Margaritas and two Coronas apiece, they staggered back to Kate's apartment where Ana also currently lived. "Okay, amigas. I'll say goodnight," said a swaying Jose, his eyes glassy and his words slurred. "Ana, I'll pick you up Friday at four. We need to go in early to set up. Okay?"

She nodded, also unsteady on her feet. Thank God she wasn't wearing heels. "Okey dokey. G'night, Jose." She tried to throw a kiss at him but slightly missed her mouth and the three of them began to giggle: they'd definitely had too much to drink this night.


	2. Chapter 2

10

10

CHAPTER 2

The roguishly handsome Professor Blake stood at the head of the lecture hall, waiting for students to file in and get settled. His eyes landed on the slim brunette student who just sidled in with her pretty blond friend in tow. There was something about the girl that intrigued him and he was hard pressed to understand why. Was it her classic beauty that appealed to him, being a renaissance art scholar or something else? He found it annoying that he couldn't quite put his finger on it but he couldn't deny the pull. Today's lecture would be the third time his path crossed with hers and yet his interest had not waned; if anything, it had merely grown stronger.

Checking his notes, more out of habit than need, he readied himself to begin the class. This particular subject had always been one of his favorites, being a person fixated on damnation as he was and always had been. Let's see how many young ones he could drag with him this time. He cleared his throat.

"As you may recall I began the semester with two essential truisms: first, that life, as Thomas Hobbes so aptly described it, is nasty, brutish, and short. One can only combat the misery by surrounding oneself with beauty, seizing opportunity whenever it presents itself, in ways large and small, important and inconsequential, expected and surprising.

"Second, that everything hinges on perception. Our eyes are the lenses, but our minds the prism through which visual stimuli are processed. The eyes relay the image but the mind deciphers it, and accumulated experience will inform what the seer ultimately gains from it. Such is the value of academic endeavor.

"What is beauty? Can evil be beautiful in its singular pursuit of hell and damnation? Consider the question as we delve into artistic conceptions of hell and its subterranean denizens. It would be most convenient if beauty of the soul was manifest on the outside; conversely, those ugly inside would show their fearsome faces on the exterior. All would be displayed for others to bear witness. Thus hell would be filled with the hideous, and heaven, the physically sublime. Simple. Black and white. Good and evil. Heaven and hell. Saints and sinners. Even the most idiotic among us would be easily capable of discerning the difference.

"However, that idea is fanciful whimsy—not to mention boring. We know that blackened souls are frequently housed in beautiful bodies—we see evidence of it every day in Hollywood."

The professor paused to bask in the laughter or maybe he merely didn't want his profound words to be lost in the comedic din. "Perhaps even more ubiquitous, are exquisite souls inhabiting unsightly physical shells.

"Unfair? Dastardly, but it is an undeniable truth. Unless or until our eyes are blinded and we are forced to see with our hearts and souls, it will be a fact of existence. So herein we will find beauty amid evil. Hence, we will we get to work assessing, appraising, analyzing, and, hopefully, appreciating the selected works in the exhibit."

He took a moment to peer over the lectern at his captive audience, a hint of a smile gracing his sensuous lips. "Welcome to Hell everyone."

With that Professor Blake began his slide presentation and the student sitting nearest the lights dimmed the harsh fluorescents in preparation. Immediately, Bosch's paintings were illuminated in all their glory on the white screen. There was an aggregate gasp among the student body as they gazed upon the Garden of Earthly Delights, especially those who hadn't yet gotten to the museum to see the exhibit.

After the lecture, Kate waited outside the door for Ana to collect her books and catch up. As soon as Ana appeared at the doorway, Kate grabbed her arm.

"Guess what? I just found out that only ten of the twenty-five students in Blake's seminar were given invites to the opening of the exhibit. And we were two of them."

Attempting to shrug it off, Ana said. "He probably only asked the graduate students to attend opening night. I don't think he especially likes us, Kate."

"No, he doesn't like us especially, Ana, he likes _you_ especially and I come attached at the hip. And there are surely more than ten graduate students since it is a graduate-level seminar. I mean, there might be two or three undergrads but it can't be more than half the class."

"Whatever. Kate, you need to get a grip. Men flock to you like flies to honey, not me. I'm the bookish type, remember." She laughed and lightly patted Kate's cheek.

"Mmmhmm. I know you know how beautiful you are, and you're just pretending to be all shy and modest. You can't possibly be oblivious to all the men sniffing after you, Ana. And I'm telling you, Professor Perfect has joined the legions."

"You're wrong… and anyway, I'm absolutely terrified of him. He can be downright cruel." She thought of the poor girl he reduced to quivering tears immediately after the first lecture. Glancing at her watch, she sucked in her breath. "Shoot. I have to get home, Kate. Jose's picking me up at four and I still have to shower and dress. We have this party we're working tonight."

"Great. Friday night and both my best friends are working. Lucky for me that I met someone in my macro class who took pity on me."

"What's that now? Do tell—quickly." Ana's eyes lit up.

"Uh-uh. I'll tell you what. I'll be forthcoming about my dates when you decide to stop playing coy and admit that Blake wants you."

"Well that's not gonna happen. I have to go anyway. I'll see you either later tonight or if you get lucky, tomorrow morning."

"Ana! I'm not that easy. I'll see you later. Maybe." She grinned as Ana shook her head, turning to rush to the parking lot.

As she hurried to her car, Ana mulled over Kate's words. Was it true that men were disproportionately interested in her? If so, it must be mostly due to the fact that she tended to ignore the attention of the opposite sex—people always want what they can't have, a perversity of human nature. Her reticence was not due to a lack of interest on her part—she definitely had a healthy libido. At least it always started off that way. But Ana had endured a very bad experience as a young girl and despite years of therapy, the specter of that experience was omnipresent. It might even be fair to go so far as to say that she'd become a product of that experience.

Ana knew she was relatively attractive—she did own a mirror and was regularly required to look into it. Thin but shapely, pale skin, dark hair, and blue eyes all came together in a harmonious way and she was grateful for it—fate or the gods of vanity had been generous with her. But she was not one to try to trade on her good looks, for one thing.

And why in God's name would Blake possibly be interested in her? First, professors weren't allowed to romantically pursue their students: it presented a conflict of interest, for one thing. It also was an unfair power dynamic and schools maintained very strict policies regarding fraternization.

Second, the man was physically as sublime as the art he'd dedicated his life to study. Over six feet, lean but muscled, with a thick shock of black hair and light green eyes, he was a member of an ethnic group referred to as Black Irish. Perhaps his appearance also evoked the Greek _kouros_, a youthful Apollo figure, since he looked far too young to be a full, tenured professor. If she had to guess, she'd say under thirty… but he almost couldn't be. Except for his considerable facial hair—Professor Blake didn't appear to enjoy shaving regularly, evidenced by a continual five o'clock shadow on his jaw and lower cheeks. Ana (and probably also multiple scores of other women), however, found that negligence rather to her liking.

As she unlocked her car and climbed into the driver's seat, the academic scholar was still on her mind. What would it be like to take such an erudite man as a lover? She snorted in amusement, glad no one was around to hear it as the next thought slid in: or any man as a lover, in her case?

At nearing twenty-three years of age, it was becoming an embarrassment that she was still unknown by a man—or woman, for that matter. It wasn't that she chose to be a virgin. If that were the case, it would be okay. Neither was it a lack of opportunity: she had many eager takers all throughout high school and her undergrad days. But every time Ana seriously entertained the idea of going to bed with a man, _he_ would rise up in her mind, the feel and smell of him, and the fear and nausea of that night would come rolling back to the fore of her brain. Brain would send signal to stomach and lust would evaporate as if it had never been.

Pulling the car out of the university's parking lot, Ana stomped on the gas and headed for the Interstate, hoping there were no police cruisers around to pull her over. An excellent possibility existed that she would not be nearly ready when Jose showed up to pick her up and she didn't want to lose this job tonight. In a few short weeks she'd begin to interview for jobs and internships and she needed to have the appropriate clothes—borrowing Kate's was always a possibility but her friend's taste ran to the sexy and Ana wanted to portray a more demure and conservative look—at least initially.

"Ugh!" Ana leaned her back against the wall just outside the hotel restroom entrances, hoping no one would catch her resting on her laurels. She was already wiped out and they hadn't even served the main course yet. Being she was not a regular employee of the catering service, she'd been assigned tables far away from the prestigious inner circle containing the guest of honor, so she hadn't even gotten a glimpse of the man they were all gushing about. He was rumored to be some paragon of industry, a philanthropist, an employer of thousands, and a humanist—in the secular not artistic sense.

She'd forgotten just how hard waiting tables was on the body. How do people do this everyday? Two things were making her situation worse: first, she'd spilled orange juice on her black slacks just as she was about to leave the condo, Jose waiting outside, making it necessary to wear the only other black article of clothing she had that was dressy enough: a relatively short, relatively tight black skirt. Consequently, instead of wearing the flat loafers she'd intended on, she was forced to wear heels. Granted, she had on pumps, not stilettos, thank God, but they were high enough and pointy enough to make her feet cry foul after a few hours of pounding in them. Ana happened to have an aesthetic thing for pointy shoes but they seemed to be designed for feet lacking toes.

The second thing making things difficult was the discriminating nature of the guests at this dinner: they nurtured very high expectations and when those failed to be delivered, they were not shy about saying so. In fact, they were more poorly behaved than children, demanding and unreasonable, and on more than one occasion Ana was sorely tempted to dump the offending dish right into a coutured lap. How satisfying would that be? Trespassing into her fantasies of ill temper, she heard a man's voice approaching, so she scurried to get back to work. Compounding her stolen break, she wasn't supposed to use the guest restroom either, but the staff facility was grossly unclean and there was a queue for the ladies' room. Ana had to go badly so she figured, what the hell? They can't fire me, right?

As her path was about to intersect with the approaching man, he swiftly turned his back for privacy, so she slowed down to appreciate the view. Towering into celestial heights, with broad shoulders, he wore a very well cut suit. She wasn't big on suits but she knew an expensive, beautifully made one when she saw it and this navy blue worsted wool suit was exquisite. From the back, she could also see his lush hair was a rich chestnut hue. But the thing that truly moved her was his voice: a rich baritone, sexy, deep but not too, and smooth. The only thing wrong with that voice was that it currently sounded angry though the man was obviously attempting to control the volume by gritting his teeth and forcing the words through them.

"I made the final decision weeks ago and I will not revisit it. Look, this is a waste of my time and I have better things to do. Good night."

With that he pivoted around to head right at her and toward the men's restroom.

The first thing Ana noticed was the color of his eyes. _Grey_. She never even knew grey eyes existed until she read a short story in an undergrad lit course a couple of semesters ago—a Civil War story—that mentioned that grey eyes were keenest and that all famous marksmen had them. That got her to thinking about grey eyes and what they looked like. What was that author's name? She tapped her head and it came to her like magic: Ambrose Bierce. Memory was such a bizarre animal, conjuring up strange recollections at the oddest times. The man in front of her had grey eyes, her first look at them ever. Was he a marksman or a swordsman, she wondered? The racy thought caused her to blush and smile.

"There's an enigmatic smile," the tall sex god commented, amusement shading those odd eyes. "What _were_ you just thinking about, one might wonder?"

Chuckling, Ana admitted the truth, _partially_. "I noticed your unusual eye color and was trying to remember a short story I read about a marksman with grey eyes. I finally recalled the author's name."

"Ah. What was it?"

She told him. "Ever read it?"

"No, but then, I'm not much for short fiction. I prefer the really long tomes like War and Peace, Crime and Punishment, and, of course, the incomparable Anna Karenina."

"Sounds like someone likes the Russians."

"Crane was American, of course."

Ana nodded. "Very true and didn't live very long, either. But at least he left a legacy. Well, I should get back to work. Excuse me."

"Are you working the party, perchance?"

"Yes, I am. I take it you're a guest?"

The man hesitated, a small smile playing about his lips. "Yes. But I'm bored."

Nodding, Ana agreed. "I can't say I blame you. The whole thing's a yawn and the guests are poorly behaved. I'd much rather serve dinner to a group of unruly kindergarteners. At least they're cute."

"I couldn't agree more. When do you finish work?"

"Not soon enough to suit me—or my feet. Luckily, I'm not part of the clean-up crew so I get to make my getaway after serving dessert."

"Would you consider going out with me for a drink afterward?"

She tilted her head, considering it. Jose was her ride home so if she went with this sex god, she'd have to find her own way home. Also, she didn't know him from Adam. For all she knew, he could be a serial killer or a Satanist or something. Still, did it matter when he looked like he did? Kate was always after her to take a chance every once in a while and live life on the edge a bit. Here was her chance.

"Yes."

"Yes, you'd consider it or yes you'll go out with me?"

She laughed softly. "Yes, I'll go out with you. And now I have to get back to feeding the undeserving."

"May I know your name? It might help in finding you in the crowd."

"Ana. Ana Steele. And yours?"

"I'm Christian Grey." He beamed at her, a dazzling smile capable of blinding swooning peons like herself. "I'll look forward to later, Ana," and with that he strode off to the men's room and she forced her legs to move back to the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

16

16

A/N: I bet you all thought I'd abandoned this story but I have been thinking about it and working on it here and there. The parts that go back to the characters' early traumas have been written from the beginning and the book was to start with them but I was afraid the darkness might be too much for readers to start with. So those parts will be upcoming. I hope you like the next chapters. XO

Chapter 3

An hour earlier, Ana had managed to get to Jose a few minutes before the staff began to serve the final part of the dessert course. "Yo Jo, after I'm finished here, I'm going out for a drink with someone, so I won't be riding home with you."

Wounded pride colored his eyes. From day one, it hadn't been difficult to see that Jose had feelings beyond friendship for Ana, but she'd never returned those feelings nor had she ever allowed him any false hope. She'd latched onto Jose as a friend since the moment they met but she harbored no romantic inclination toward him, an unfair fact of life that continually plagued him.

Over the course of their friendship, Jose tried to reason it out: women generally flocked to him, unbidden. True, at 5'9" he wasn't all that tall, but it was a respectable height and paled into insignificance when potential lovers considered his impressive physique. Jose worked out religiously three times a week and his body resembled that of a finely honed warrior: broad chested, with arms so wide they strained the hardworking sleeves of every shirt he deigned to wear. He had milk chocolate skin, and his handsome, sloe-eyed face could turn most women into malleable putty. Most girls wanted Jose to be more than just a friend. Not Ana, though. Never Ana, he silently lamented.

"Someone from the dinner?"

"Yes," Ana nodded, feeling her face flush. She wasn't thrilled to admit to Jose she was going out with a stranger. It was reckless and Ana didn't normally do reckless.

"Ana, what do you know about this guy?"

"Uh, his name."

"And what's—"

"Jose! We've got a problem and I need you, pronto!" The shout came from Tara, the woman who played right hand to the caterer, Caroline.

"Got to go, Ana. We'll talk when we're done here." He ran off, leaving Ana with her thoughts about reckless college students, black-haired professors who love beautiful art, and grey-eyed businessmen in perfectly cut suits. The big room felt warm all of a sudden.

If Jose had been afforded the time to ask the man's name—as he'd been about to do—and gotten an answer, he'd have been able to tell Ana exactly who she was having a drink with after the event. Working for the catering company for nearly a year, Jose was a favorite of the owner. Consequently, Caroline had ensured that Jose was given the choicest (i.e. most lucrative) tables at the event, so he'd been serving the inner sanctum of the affair. He'd heard the name Christian Grey being bandied back and forth all throughout dinner and had actually served the man's table himself.

Ana had not. The staff had been carefully instructed to avoid any conversation with guests that did not directly involve the evening's menu. Accordingly, the only topic of discussion she'd been privy to among the lesser important guests farther away from where sat the elite inner circle focused strictly on the food, and the various complaints thereof. By the end of the night, she still didn't know the name of the corporate titan being celebrated for his philanthropic largesse. Nor did she much care.

The good news for Ana was that she'd just served the last round of coconut sorbet and wild blueberry tarte and thus finished dispensing with the duties she'd assumed for tonight. It was only then that she wondered where she should wait for Christian Grey. Duh, it might have been smart to ask him earlier. Scanning the large room to see if she could spot where he was sitting, she realized it was too large a venue, with too many people crowding about. Even if she found him, she could hardly sidle up, bat her eyes, and ask him where she should wait for him.

After searching for a few minutes she decided to make a quick detour to the guest ladies' room and freshen up. She'd wait for him where they met. If he didn't show up within fifteen minutes or so, maybe she'd write it off as a loss and hitch a ride home with Jose after all. The unexpected disappointment she felt at the decision took her aback. She really wanted to get to know the sex god in the beautiful suit.

Washing her hands, she glanced in the mirror. _Damn_, she thought, _my complexion is so sallow—I look freaking dead._ She pulled out her make-up bag and applied a little mascara, a tiny amount of bronzer that she blended with her foundation, and some tinted lip-gloss. Stepping back, she appraised her reflection. Much better. Out of her oversized shoulder bag, she pulled out one of her tiny disposable toothbrushes, preloaded with minty paste, and quickly brushed her teeth, wishing she'd thought of it before applying the gloss. Done, she checked her clothing, donned a scarlet cardigan over the white shirt, and stepped out to wait for the man in the Armani suit.

She never found him. After waiting nearly twenty minutes by the restrooms, Ana went back out to the ballroom. It had emptied out quite a bit but despite diligently searching, the gorgeous Christian Grey was nowhere to be seen. She flagged down Jose right before he was about to leave for the night.

"Are you going now, Jose?"

"Yeah, Caroline gave me a break and didn't schedule me for clean-up." He looked at her curiously. "I thought you were catching a drink with someone?"

Ana shrugged, hoping for nonchalance, even though she was feeling awful about being stood up. "I can't seem to find him. Can I still hitch a ride back home with you?"

"Of course, _mon_ _chéri_. Let's go."

On the ride home, Jose looked over at Ana. She was fiddling with the radio stations and she seemed content enough. Good. He was afraid she might be upset that her date didn't pan out. "So…" he paused to give her time to look up, "who was this guy you were supposed to meet up with?"

She didn't look up from the radio. "It doesn't matter."

"Personally, I don't understand how any man could be crazy enough to stand you up."

Now Ana looked up, intrigued by Jose's tone of voice. "I'm not certain I was stood up. I just couldn't find him but the hotel is big…"

"Whatever. He still should have found a way." He reached over and grasped her hand. "Better for me 'cause now I get to have your company for the ride home."

When he made that comment, Ana glanced out her window, turning her face away from him.

"I'm sorry, Ana. I didn't mean to be so insensitive."

Mollified by her friend's apologetic tone, Ana was only too happy to move on to other subjects. But her chest felt tight with disappointment. She'd really wanted to go out with the man in the nice suit and she was bitterly disappointed. Perhaps she gave up on him too quickly? Maybe he was waiting for her in some other spot in the hotel?

As Ana washed up before bed, her mind was on three men: Professor Blake, who was gorgeous but mean, her old friend Jose, who was steady and true-blue, and the mysterious Christian Grey, who favored expensive suits and Russian literature.

Jose was the kind of man she knew she could count on—a dependable friend always, but there was no spark of passion between them, at least not on her end. She'd never misled Jose, always letting him know exactly what the parameters of their relationship were and would remain. However, if she could choose whom she was attracted to, it would be Jose almost surely. He was handsome, reliable, intelligent, and had a great sense of humor. What's not to like? But no one can choose to be physically attracted to another; it just happens chemically. Once when she saw his bare chest, she did feel a twinge or two in her girl parts but it wasn't enough.

As far as Professor Blake was concerned—now, he inspired more than a girly twinge or two but he also terrified her. She'd seen how he whaled on the poor student who had tried to flirt with him. Ana didn't want to be in her position—ever. Besides, surely Kate was mistaken, or was exaggerating his interest in her. Why would a man of his academic mint have any interest in a lowly graduate student? Yet earlier today Ana kept catching him staring at her during his lecture. He'd cover it by asking her a question, then looking at other students if she didn't offer up an answer right away. His attention did seem more focused than random… but what could he possibly find of interest in her?

In the same sense, the question applied to Christian Grey. He seemed to be a successful businessman; what would he see in her? Yes, Ana knew she was attractive… but so are many other women who are just as pretty and have a far better pedigree. Why would he slum around with her when he could aim (and score) so much higher?

Ana's art seminar met once a week on Fridays so she wasn't planning on seeing Professor Blake for almost a week but when she checked her school email over the weekend, there was a note from him asking her to meet with her on Monday if possible. She quickly responded, saying that Monday late morning would be doable for her, if he was available and then wondered why he could want to meet with her. At this point in the semester, he'd only held two lectures and one short paper had been due at the last class. It had to have something to do with that assignment… but what?

She worried about it all weekend even when Kate dragged her over to a friend's party. She finally decided she was going to stop fretting over everything and have some fun for a change. Allison Bartlett, Kate's friend, had a beautiful old English cottage-type home and the party was in full swing when they arrived.

"I'm going to get us a drink. Wanna come with or wait here for me?"

"I'll come," Ana shouted over the din of the music. "Don't abandon me tonight. I hardly know anyone here."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you'd be alone for all of three minutes if I left you, which I won't."

As she followed Kate to the bar, Ana scanned the crowded room, looking for familiar faces but she didn't see a single one. Kate turned around and grasped her hand, pulling her to quicken her pace, causing Ana to stumble. _I almost went down_, she thought. _That would be just like me to make an ass of myself at a party_. It was the pair of heels Kate insisted she wear tonight. If God wanted women to wear stilettos, she would have put high pointy heels on feet, damn it. Whatever happened to those hideous things her grandma used to wear? What did she call them? Earth shoes, that was it. Ugly but she'd bet they were comfortable as all get out.

Kate was wearing a short black dress—it was so short it could be fairly called a shirt instead. But she decent-ified it by wearing opaque tights and knee-high boots and with her light blond hair and all black outfit, she was effectively dressed to kill. That's how she met Evan.

He sauntered over to them just as they reached the bar and Kate was about to place their order. Blond, tall, sparkling blue eyes, and a smile that would make a nun swoon, he honed right in on Kate. "May I buy you a drink?" he asked, and Kate rolled her eyes since the drinks were free of course.

Kate finished ordering our drinks and then looked at the guy, allowing her eyes to slowly rove over his body from up to down and back up again. Damn, Ana thought, if I tried to do that I'd burst blood vessels in my face from blushing. What is Kate made of, after all? Imagining Kate moving to Earth from some distant planet, Ana started spacing out—ha!—and wasn't paying full attention when Kate placed the drink in her hand. Consequently, she nearly dropped the glass but caught it in time, sloshing a bit of the cranberry and vodka cocktail on her light blue shirt.

"Great. Not only do I have a lovely pink stain but also I get to walk around smelling like a lush. Where's the bathroom, do you know, Kate?"

"It's in the rear of the house. Take some club soda with you—that should get it out. The bartender heard and handed Ana a paper cup filled with the soda. "Thanks," she said, blushing. "I'll meet you in a few minutes."

"Sure, Ana. Take your time."

And glanced back sharply at her friend but Kate returned an innocent, wide-eyed expression. "There's no rush, that's all, Ana."

Yeah, right, Ana thought as she made her way to the bathroom. She might as well be alone from here on in. Kate was going to be hanging on that man's arm for the rest of the night and probably would go home with him—or he'd come home with them. Either way, Ana would put money on the fact that Kate would sleep with Evan tonight. The girl didn't know the meaning of the phrase "hard to get."

After waiting an interminable time for the bathroom to become free, Ana made her way in and took off her shirt to try to get the stain out. It was one of her favorites, of course: a pale blue see-through cotton button-down shirt that she wore over a dark blue silk camisole. Luckily, the club soda did the trick. She went out in just the camisole.

As she walked back toward the bar where she left her drink, a good-looking man with longish blond hair appeared in front of her.

"Hello. I'm Jack." He extended his hand and Ana looked down before taking it. Jack had really large hands and long fingers. His nails were trimmed and buffed. She took the proffered hand and smiled.

"Ana. Nice to meet you."

"Were you on your way to the bar?"

"Yes. I left my drink there when I spilled it on my shirt. I was going to see if it was still there."

"We'll get you a fresh one. Come on."

Once the drink was in her hand, Jack began to tell her about his job as a hedge fund manager for a financial services firm in New York.

"Anyway, long story short, I got sick of the whole money-grabbing lifestyle in the concrete jungle. One morning I woke up, went into work and as soon as I arrived at the office—I quit. Just like that, no notice, no nothing. Said _adios_, and walked right out.

"I went home, packed up my cat and my apartment and moved out here to pursue more important things like rock climbing, skiing, and mountain biking. Best decision I ever made."

"So how do you make rent, if you spend all your time pursuing your interests? Independently wealthy or lottery winner?"

Jack laughed. "Neither, unfortunately. I ran out of money in four months, so I was forced into gainful employment."

Ana took stock of this Jack person. He was just the type of uncomplicated guy she gravitated to—platonically. She could totally see herself becoming great friends with this blond breath of fresh air. "So, what do you do now? Wait, don't tell me; let me guess." She stood back, squinting her eyes as if in deep contemplation. "Okay, I think I've got it. Boardwalk caricatures?"

He laughed heartily. "No but that sounds like fun. Last month I started working for Christian Grey."

"Christian Grey?"

"Yes. Do you know of him?"

"I met him last week. We were supposed to go out for drinks but I lost track of him—it was a crowded event—and I ended up leaving without meeting up with him. I wish I could get in touch with him to explain…"

Jack peered at her, amusement reflected in his eyes. She obviously didn't know who Christian Grey was, he didn't think. Should he let her in on the truth or leave it be? "Well, if you give me your number, I can relay the message and number to him next time I see him." He didn't tell her he'd never met Mr. Grey in the month he'd been working at Grey Enterprises and he probably wouldn't set eyes on the man for a long time to come. It was too good an opportunity to get her telephone number.

"So what do you do now?"

"This time I stayed away from the financial soul-sucking jobs and I'm in marketing. Not as much money to be made but I can go to bed with my soul intact at night." He grinned, displaying a set of straight pearly whites.

Ana cocked her head. "Funny but you look more like a surfer dude to me."

"And I might have been, too, if I hadn't been born in Teaneck, New Jersey."

"Ah. Not a big surfing town, I take it?"

Jack laughed. "Not at all. So what do you do, Ana?"

"I'm in graduate school right now. Studying a dual major of art and psychology.

She spent the next hour chatting with Jack and they made plans to have dinner sometime in the coming weeks. Ana was really happy to have met another friend and she thought Kate might especially like Jack. She would have introduced them tonight but she couldn't find the crazy girl. She began to search and ended up at that bar again, having another drink and meeting more people. As the hour passed midnight, she went in search of her wayward friend again,.

Ana tracked Kate down a little while later. She was sitting on a chair in a reading nook, draped over Evan and they were making out, fast and furious.

"Ahem."

Kate looked up and Ana tapped her watch, letting Kate know the hour was late. "I'm going home now, Kate. Are you ready to leave, perchance?"

Kate shook her head. "How are you getting home?"

Frowning, Ana said, "I'll figure it out. I should have taken my own car but, whatever."

Evan piped up. "I'll take you home, Kate, that way Ana could have your car. How's that?"

"Oh, that's sweet of you, Evan. Thanks."

Ana rolled her eyes at Kate's slurred words. She'd have to tell her stop drinking so much but she'd wait until they were alone again—Kate probably didn't even realize how much she was drinking lately. They were close enough friends that Ana could tell Kate anything without her taking it as an insult. Ana also shared everything about her own life with Kate.

Everything except that one thing about her, the one experience that has since defined her and the probable reason why she was still a virgin. Ana told no one about it: only her mother and her psychiatrist knew, her mother because she was there and her doctor because her mother had told her. Only two people and that's how it would stay, as far as Ana was concerned, buried as deep as she could get it.

First thing on Monday, Dr. Blake cancelled their meeting, asking to reschedule it for Friday after class and Ana breathed a sigh of relief at the temporary reprieve. She could not imagine what he needed to speak with her about but it couldn't be good. Plus, the man made her _über_ nervous. She'd even toyed with the idea of dropping the class after the first seminar when he eviscerated the female student, but dropping a class she needed to graduate for such a flimsy reason was stupid.

Her week was light—she only had one class on Monday and she planned to spend Tuesday in the library doing research for her abnormal psychology class. Wednesday and Thursday mornings she had shifts at the bookstore where she worked part-time.

During the slow hours at the bookstore, Ana daydreamed. She was excited about finally finishing school and attempting to make her way in the world. She tried to focus on her career ambitions, but inevitably her thoughts were hijacked by despicably handsome men, men like Christian Grey. Damn, she had a rare opportunity to go out with such a man and she'd blown it. At least she thought she had, unless he really had stood her up.

On Friday after class, she met Professor Blake at the door to his office. Ana had gotten there first so she patiently waited, her pulse racing. She was so nervous. Watching him stride confidently up the hall toward her did nothing to calm her severe agitation—quite the contrary.

"Ms. Steele. Thank you for your punctuality." He smiled and it did truly wonderful things to his face. He looked younger, much younger, and… just so _handsome_.

"No problem, Dr. Blake. Or do you prefer the title of professor?"

"Either one will do," he said unlocking the office door. "Please," he turned as he opened it and stepped away to allow her in first, "have a seat."

Ana walked into the room and was immediately impressed. For such a young faculty member, he had a superb office, proving the school wanted to keep him. Windowed with a view of the south side of campus, it was relatively large and had been outfitted with a small Persian-inspired rug and stained glass lamp. Blake obviously wanted to make his long hours at school as pleasant as possible. She was convinced of it when he dropped his iPod into a dock and turned on soft music. Maybe he'd break out a bottle of vino? He gestured her to a chair.

Taking it, Ana instantly realized that Blake placed his visitors at a psychological disadvantage. The chair immediately opposite his desk was lower than his own, so he'd be looking down at the person—unless his visitor was inordinately tall, since Blake himself stood over six feet. Besides being diminutive, it was also not the most comfortable of chairs, she thought, leaving the seated uncomfortable as well as intimidated. Enviously she eyed the ergonomic chair behind his desk and watched as he gracefully folded his long frame into it. Shuffling some papers out of the way, he laced his fingers together on top of his desk.

"So, I imagine you're wondering why you've been summoned to my office so young in the semester. Am I correct?"

Flushing, she mumbled, "Yes, the question had crossed my mind." She couldn't help it: the man intimidated her. Her fingers fumbled nervously with her handbag clasp while she tried to give his words her full attention without getting distracted by the way his beautiful white shirt stretched tautly over his broad chest. _That shirt alone would pay my half of a month's rent,_ Ana thought. The man must have family money because no young professor makes enough to wear such expensive clothing. Blake always looked sharp.

"Well, then, I'll get right to the point to set your mind at ease. I wanted to ask you if you'd like to work with me throughout the spring semester? I'm under deadline to finish a book I'm writing and I have all my academic obligations as well. I can offer you an hourly salary, plus this type of thing always looks good on your CV. Are you interested?" Blake leaned back in his chair, watching the student for cues.

Work with him? Ana couldn't imagine having to be continually in this man's presence. "May I ask why you chose me, Professor?"

"You may. I looked at my students' majors and then their grades. You popped out since you are both an art major and a serious student." He looked at her, those odd-colored eyes unwavering, and waited for her response.

For Blake's part, he knew how unsettling his direct gaze could be and he intentionally focused his potent presence on the beautiful student sitting in front of him.

"What book are you working on, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I'm putting together a collection of art reflecting on the city of Pisa's contribution to the Renaissance."

Ana nodded, her mind racing with his proposition and all that it entailed: it would be a great opportunity for her if, and this was a big if, she could stomach being in such close quarters with him on a regular basis. Would he ever scream at her? She didn't think she could take it.

As if he read her mind and thus her indecision, his next words were reassuring. "I'll give you a week to think about it, Ana. If you make your decision before then, please don't hesitate to let me know. The sooner I hire an assistant, the better. Agreed?"

Was he dismissing her? "Uh, may I just ask the hours of the position?"

"Flexible. Should you decide to take the job, we can get together and work around your schedule, I'm quite sure." His eyes bore into hers and Ana thought she detected amusement in their depths. She was suddenly afraid she'd blurt out the same stupid question that got the poor girl the harsh dressing down.

She stood and extended her hand. "Thank you very much for the offer, Professor Blake. I'll give it my most serious consideration and will notify you of my answer in twenty-four hours."

Surprised, he smiled broadly at her and her knees nearly gave out. Damn but the man was fine. "Excellent. I'll look forward to hearing from you and I certainly hope it will be with an affirmative response. Good day, Ana."

He extended his hand to shake, his large, strong-looking hand that looked too masculine for an academic who spent all of his time indoors. As soon as Ana took it and their hands touched, there was a small static shock and the heat of his hand transferred to her cold one. Shocked, her head whipped up quickly to see if he had a reaction but he was just smiling warmly. She returned the smile and spun around to leave, affected by that contact.

Walking to her car, she had to acknowledge a self-evident truth: she really liked Professor Blake, really liked him.


	4. Chapter 4

11

11

Chapter 4

Ana had spent all of Tuesday in the library but had managed to find only one secondary source she could use for her twenty-five-page paper. She needed only about twenty or so more, damn it. So Thursday afternoon she headed back to the campus library to slog through more journal databases. Just as she was about to enter the library, her cell phone chimed. Going for her phone, she dropped all her books. When she went to pick up the books, her shoulder bag slid off her shoulder and the contents spilled out all over the floor. What's more, she was now blocking people from entering or leaving the library.

"Damn it all to hell," she muttered, bending down, her face fiery with embarrassment. She grabbed for the phone on the fifth and final ring, right before it went to voice mail.

"Hello?" her greeting was a bit testy. With the toe of her boot she pushed all of her bag's contents to the side so people could get in and out of the library doorway.

"Is this Ana?"

"Speaking. Who's calling?" She didn't recognize the voice but he sounded important so she immediately chilled.

"This is Christian Grey. The man you stood up the other evening? I believe you owe me a drink."

Completely flustered, Ana said nothing, her brain on blank. "I looked all over for you…" Her voice sounded pathetically tiny.

"I waited until the place emptied out and you were nowhere to be found. I have to admit, I can't remember ever having been stood up before. It's not a pleasant feeling."

"I thought you had left; I couldn't find you either. I'm sorry… Um, did Jack give you my telephone number?"

There was a pause. "Yes, he did. I trust that it's acceptable to you?"

"Oh. Yes, no problem. I met him at a party the other night and he mentioned he worked with you. I told him about our mix-up and he took my number, said he'd give it to you."

"I'm sure he did. So… are you interested or was the stand-up intentional?"

"No," she said and then hurriedly added, "I mean, no, it wasn't intentional and yes I'm interested."

"Very good. Text me your address and I'll pick you up, say, Friday evening, eight o'clock sound good?"

"Uh, sure. Friday evening it is."

It was in the car, driving to wherever they were going for drinks, when Ana began to get an inkling of who the man was sitting next to her. Something about the way he exuded power and confidence from every pore in his very sinuously contoured body. Or perhaps it was the steady stream of phone calls that continually interrupted the incredible stereo system in the Lexus, many of which he quickly switched off speaker phone? It may also have been the sycophantic deference his driver showed him.

But it was probably everything combined. She surreptitiously Googled him on her iPhone and that's when she learned things about him: that he was CEO of a large, exceedingly profitable corporation that he himself founded at the age of twenty-two. Some kind of business wunderkind, he'd made the Forbes list not long after. That he was in fact, the _guest of honor_ at the catered event where she worked and met him. That part and parcel of the reason he'd been feted the that evening was that he was a dedicated philanthropist, using his money and influence to better others' lives and fight poverty and hunger in emerging nations. And that's also when she nearly aspirated on her own saliva when she gasped in surprise and tried to swallow the sound lest he hear her—rather he should hear her gurgling on her own spit. It didn't take Ana very long to realize that she was way out of her league in the backseat of the sleek new Lexus. Way fucking out.

_Lord Byron's_ was an elegant club designed with _The Great Gatsby_ in mind, Ana thought as her eyes scanned the room. The lounge paid _homage_ to an opulent Art Deco sensibility, with furniture that evoked Bauhaus staples such as Barcelona chairs and tubular bar stools. The ghost of Frank Lloyd Wright lingered in the room like the cigarette smoke no longer allowed inside. Sipping her drink, she eyeballed the man across from her, trying to appear nonchalant, and wondered how she managed to even catch his eye. A man like Christian Grey could snap his fingers and easily have his choice of just about any woman, single or married. Why would he ask her out?

"So?" his query was punctuated by one raised brow.

Desperately wanting to wipe her sweaty palms on her skirt, she resisted and tried to project a cool and mature disposition. She didn't know exactly what he was asking her with his monosyllabic query so she remained silent, watching him for a clue to help her divine what he meant.

"The drink, Ana. Like it?"

Oh. "Artichokes, you say?" When he nodded, she slightly shrugged. "It's bitter."

"Yes. An acquired taste, I'd say."

"Mmmhmm. Acquired taste is a euphemism for something nasty that one must force oneself to like, don't you think?"

Christian tilted his head back and laughed, displaying a mouthful of teeth that would make a dentist swoon. "Yes, to some extent that's true. Not entirely, though. Consider the foods you refused as a child. Do you like them now, as an adult?" His eyes held a mischievous twinkle.

"Well, yes. Tastes do evolve from childhood, without question, otherwise we'd all still be eating chicken fingers and mac & cheese. I was just speaking to the notion that whenever someone prefaces a sample of something by insisting it's an acquired taste, you can be fairly certain the initial reaction will be one of repugnance."

"Indeed." He eyed her closely, wondering what she was all about. The girl was utterly beautiful and yet somehow seemed unaware of it. Christian was an excellent judge of people—one of the reasons he was successful in business: he could read others readily and anticipate their next moves. Ana was, what? Twenty-one or –two? She'd been looking in the mirror on a daily basis since childhood. How could she not know the kind of beauty and sexuality she projected? Still, she comported herself like someone who was unsure of herself, hesitant …and innocent, which was exactly why he had to meet her.

Christian fed off shyness and innocence. In the years since he experienced his traumatic ordeal at prep school, an event that shaped the man he'd become, he sought out people whom he could dominate easily. He wanted nothing to do with other strong-willed people who would prove rivals. Shy, retiring people tended to accept his dominance without question or protest so he gravitated toward that disposition.

Ana, however, was a conundrum of the prickliest sort. On the one hand, she seemed insecure in her powers of the femme fatale. It was the way she cast her eyes down when he looked directly at her, the manner in which she crossed her feet at the ankles while standing, and fiddled with her hair while conversing, her nervous chuckles that punctuated all of her declaratory sentences. All of these cues informed him of her weak animus. Or so he thought.

Until he put a little fire in her in the form of an alcoholic drink and the kitten morphed into a tiger. Suddenly her body language began speaking a different tongue. Her chest thrust out, her legs crossed coquettishly at the knee, causing her skirt hem to travel up her thigh and making his cock begin to stand up in rapt attention. She looked him dead in the eye as she spoke, licking her lips at intervals—she damn well had to know what _that_ was doing to him.

So now he wasn't sure about this young woman, about who and what she really was. He was, however, definitely sure about one thing: he was going to find out more about her… and soon. His wish was to learn all her secrets while he had her tethered to his bed, coaxing them out of her through his expert touch, affectionate kisses, and torturous orgasm denial—and Christian always saw his wishes fulfilled. His appeasement was his destiny—he honestly believed that was true.

As for Ana, it was just a matter of lulling her into a false sense of security. For now, he was playing a role, that of the suave yet interested man, a successful executive with a heart of gold. He wouldn't allow her to see the real man until it was too late for her to change her mind.

The game was on and he was very much looking forward to playing with her in every sense of the word.

Ana was on her second drink as Christian sipped his first. He maneuvered it so slickly she didn't even realize and he tried to keep her distracted through conversation.

"Tell me, Ana, why you were working Four Seasons event? Is catering a career aspiration for you?"

"Hardly," she snorted and then realized she was being snotty. Food service was certainly a noble profession. She quickly adopted a more neutral tone. "No, the company needed extra staffing for the affair and a friend of mine asked me to work. I didn't mind since I need extra money to buy more formal attire for job interviews. I'm shortly leaving the ranks of student of academia for the gainfully employed—hopefully."

"Ah. What career are you pursuing?"

"I have a dual major of psychology and art history. I've always hoped to incorporate the two, using art as therapy in some way. In pursuing the art history specialization, I took numerous studio classes so I could teach hands-on art to people undergoing psychiatric treatment." She abruptly stopped; surely he wasn't interested in all of her plans.

"Go on," he prompted, appearing genuinely intrigued. His demeanor encouraged her.

"Well, I'm hoping to find employment in either capacity or in an ancillary way, at least initially. Eventually I'll return to school for my doctorate with a clearer idea of exactly what I'll pursue long term."

Christian's index finger toyed with his bottom lip as he continued sizing up the young woman in front of him. Initially he'd considered her pretty but he had to amend that characterization quickly: Ana's looks were exceptional, a muse for a Renaissance artist, with her classical features and coloring. She was, simply put, beautiful.

"Why psychology? What interested you?"

Ana blushed. His question went so directly to the heart of things she didn't care to speak of, dark things that she tried not to dwell on. There was something so very penetrating about this man, as if he could see clearly beneath the surface, through all artifice, with no difficulty whatsoever. "I was in therapy as a child. Bad experience. My therapists were so kind and helpful that it made me want to pursue a similar profession, maybe help children in the same way I was helped."

"Aha. A pay it forward type of thing then?"

"I suppose. And you? What made you go into your profession?" As Ana asked the question, she realized she didn't even know what profession precisely he was in.

Christian's eyes became fired with some inscrutable emotion. "I saw an opportunity that others failed to identify and I exploited it, earning stupid amounts of money as a result. It was so easy that I kept at it. Before I knew it, I'd acquired quite a bit of stock in a number of profitable concerns… it snowballed from there."

He paused to take a sip of his scotch, neat and straight up, pulling his lips back as the peaty drink settled on his tongue. Ana started thinking about that tongue and had to recross her legs as a result. The room was beginning to feel excessively warm.

"I too had a difficult experience as a youngster so I can appreciate your predisposition to that profession. I found the psychologist I worked with to be something of a lifesaver."

Really? Ana was now wondering what his childhood ordeal was because one would never know the man in front of her had an unpleasant day in his life. He was just so put together, and undiluted power and confidence radiated off him like heat waves.

Leaning back, she carefully considered his answer. "Do you enjoy doing what you do?

Two intense yet curious grey eyes stared back at her as he rested his head on his fist, his elbow leaning on the arm of the upholstered chair that's lucky enough to cradle him, and proceeded to stare at her. Unsettling her, Ana decided he wasn't planning to answer and was about to speak again when he cleared his throat.

"Yes, overall I do. Initially it was all about making money but now…" his hand waved in the air, taking over as words failed him. "Now, it's more of a means to an end."

"What's the end, if I may ask?"

"I envision my corporation making an actual difference in the world, certainly making money but also helping humanity." He shrugged. "We're funding education programs in South Africa, clean water initiatives in the Sudan, polio vaccinations across the continent of Africa where the number of cases are rising, and an agricultural program in Haiti using hydroponic crops since arable land is scarce."

"Wow, that's beyond impressive, Christian. Good for you."

"It makes going into the office every day seem a bit more worthwhile, I have to admit."

"Not to mention the fabulous dinners given in your honor, served by impeccable wait people."

His eyes darkened. "That most of all, Ms. Steele."

Overall it was an enlightening two hours. Christian took Ana home after they finished their drinks—it was late and they'd both had a long day. When the Lexus pulled up in front of her and Kate's condo building, Christian turned to her, grasping her hand. "I enjoyed your company this evening, Ana. Thank you for gracing me with it."

"I enjoyed it too, Christian. Thank you for the drinks and, of course, the uh, scintillating conversation."

He bowed his head in acknowledgement. "So perhaps we might do it again sometime soon?"

Blushing, Ana nodded her head. "Yes. I'd like that, thank you."

He smiled with satisfaction. "Very good. Might you be free this coming Thursday?"

"Thursday?" She paused. "I'm not one hundred percent sure until I check my calendar… but I think Thursday is clear. If I have to reschedule, though, how may I contact you?"

He pulled out his wallet and removed a business card from a fold. "Here. My cell number is listed underneath the office number. I only give this card to a select few." He winked.

"I'll consider myself honored then."

"Wait here and I'll escort you to your door." He got out of the car and stepped around to her side, opening the car door quickly and extending his hand for her to take.

At the door, he took her key and unlocked the lobby door for her, making no move to advance any further. She turned to say goodbye and saw the hungry look in his eyes. That's when her knees started knocking together. Just one look…

"May I kiss you goodnight, Ana?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. They were warm and silky, and Ana wanted to just run her fingers through his hair and keep kissing him. But that would be forward, right? Too much so. Instead , she summoned her reserves and stepped back, noting he didn't retreat. What would have happened if she didn't either? She'd never know now.

"Goodnight, Ana. Until Thursday."

"Goodnight," her voice emerged a bit too breathless to suit her. He noticed, of course, and smiled that dazzling smile of his that might possibly be insurable by Lloyd's of London.

After Ana had time to contemplate, she realized that there was an enormous chemistry between her and Christian Grey. When he'd walked her to the front door of her building, he placed his hand on the small of her back and his touch was electrifying. Chemistry? They had potential explosives between them. When she felt that… whatever it was that flashed electric energy between them, she whipped her head over to look at him and she could tell he felt it, too. His face wore an almost shocked expression. Ana knew then and there that if she slept with Christian Grey, it would be very good. Maybe even sublime.

From there her thoughts leapfrogged to Professor Blake. Both he and Christian Grey seemed way out of her league yet both seemed interested in her. Of course, Blake's interest might be purely academic, no pun intended. But even so, why her?

No matter how she tried to deny it, the explanation for both men's interest seemed pretty clear and it unsettled her: obviously, they both just wanted to sleep with her. Maybe they saw her shyness as an irresistible challenge.

And then she had to laugh on the heels of that thought because if lust was in fact their true motive—boy, were they barking up the wrong tree. Ana couldn't bring herself to sleep with anyone, even tall, gorgeous, experienced men. Especially tall, gorgeous, experienced men. Maybe she should start out with a short, plain, inexperienced type? Ugh, it was time to head back to the therapist or she was going to be a virgin forever.


	5. Chapter 5

15

15

_**Portland, Oregon**_

_**2001**_

The small room was illuminated only by moonlight that trespassed between the slats of the wide Venetian blinds. In daylight the bedroom was cheerful, awash in feminine shades of pale pink and green with scalloped white furniture and a small white iron chandelier dangling daintily from the ceiling. The room's inhabitant was long asleep, her dark hair fanned out across the white pillow, framing her sweet face and roseate lips. She'd had an exciting day at school, with rainbow cupcakes for everyone in honor of her imminent birthday. Right now her peaceful slumber was interrupted by an abrupt inability to breathe. The resulting gasping caused her to waken suddenly, panicked.

"Shhh. It's just me. Stay still." The voice came out of the darkness. Ana knew it belonged to her aunt's boyfriend, Joel. He'd told her to call him Uncle Joel but Ana had just met him four days before. Her aunt and Joel were staying the week with Ana and her mother, visiting for Ana's birthday. But why did he keep coming into her room? Last night she'd awakened to find him looming over her, staring. The night before that she bolted up from a deep sleep, afraid that someone was in her room. And now this, tonight.

"Stop! Get off me! I can't breathe… Mommy!" she screamed, feeling his hands all over her body. He clapped his huge hand over her mouth mid-scream, roughly pushing her lips into her teeth, abrading her gums. The taste of salty blood and her inability to draw any breath caused her to kick her legs wildly in boundless terror. Undeterred, his other hand yanked at her white cotton underpants covered in tiny blue rosebuds as she desperately tried to squirm away but he had her pinned down. A few inches were all she managed to travel before he swiftly halted her progress, grabbing her with both of his meaty hands and dragging her toward him. "Come back here, you little bitch. I'm not done with you. If you scream again, I'm going to spank your heinie bloody. Now shut up and be nice to me!"

He tore off her pajama gown and touched her naked body everywhere, putting fingers into her private places, licking her with his gross tongue, grunting and breathing noisily. He got spit all over her skin and it smelled sour. The nauseating odor rushed saliva into her mouth where it roiled with blood, and she began to choke as it trickled down her throat. Ana heard him unzip his pants and she didn't know why but she was too frantic to wonder. He was in the process of flipping her over when she again screamed, this time at the top of her lungs, and then the door flung open so hard it slammed into the wall with a thunderous bang.

She'd never heard her mother sound like she did, the blackest fury barely contained as she attacked the man with her voice. "Get off my daughter, you disgusting, vile piece of nothing," her mother screeched at a bloodcurdling pitch. "I'll rip your balls right off and make you eat them."

Joel stood up. That's when Ana saw he was in his boxer shorts, his pants around his knees. He scurried out of the room without a backward glance, as her mother came forward to embrace her daughter in her arms. The girl was trembling from head to toe and her nostrils were still filled with the man's rank odor of stale beer and old sweat. She didn't think she'd ever forget it.

"Baby girl, come sleep in my bed tonight. Everything will be fine, I promise," her mother's voice crooned but Ana had never heard it so shaky. As she hugged her mother, it was hard for her to tell which one of them trembled more. "Tomorrow is your birthday and we're going to have so much fun. I'm so sorry, Ana. It will all be okay." She tightly grasped her daughter, rocking her back and forth, over and over. They sat like that for nearly an hour as her mother debated calling the police. What would they put her daughter through?

Finally, she released her grip and Ana scampered into her mother's room, climbing up into the big bed. Nothing was as comforting as a mother's bed and so she managed a small smile and curled up into a ball. From that night on, it was how she always slept, in a tight fetal position, impregnable and protected by her hard outer shell. Sleep was long in coming and she so wanted to get to sleep so she could wake up and it would be morning—and not just any morning but the morning of her tenth birthday.

Chapter 5

Ana woke up drenched in sweat. Hanging her head in her hands, she searched her brain, trying to remember the last time she'd had the nightmare so vividly. Had to be going on five years, at this point. Wondering what brought it on, she swung her legs over the side of the bed to get up. Stepping barefoot on the cool hardwood floor, she padded over to the kitchen to get a glass of water from the dispenser. Better.

For almost ten years, the nightmare waited patiently at the edges of her consciousness, poised to strike as soon as she drifted off on the first wave of slumber, never failing to crash upon her peace, every single night, a religiously inflicted torment. After seven years of regular and intense therapy, a combination of talk and pharmaceuticals, Ana thought she might finally leave the scars of that night behind.

It didn't happen: scars are thicker and more resilient than unscathed tissue. Every time she'd get close to a man, feel her sexual drive waken, the dirty memory would slam against her brain. She'd smell the beer and old sweat; she'd feel the huge, callused hand inhibiting her from respiration; she'd hear the heavy, whistling nasal breathing of the monster, his breath turning ragged as each second melted into the next… and she'd push the new man away, sometimes literally. It didn't matter how different he was from the child molester; the fact that he had the same equipment was repellent enough.

At one point Ana thought she might turn to women but there was zero physical attraction there. Ana could see a beautiful woman and recognize her as such but the idea of being intimate with one was anathema to her. She was definitely out-and-out hetero.

Deciding that this year was the one she would succeed in taking that final step in conquering the nightmare, she took a proactive stance and began to date in earnest. She'd met men: everywhere she went, she met men—after all, male persons are not known for their discriminating palate when it came to sex and Ana knew she was very pretty. The latest ones though, it had to be admitted, far outclassed any who came before them. Christian Grey and Geoffrey Blake stood head and shoulders above all others, both literally and metaphorically.

The way she saw it, first she had to decide which one it would be and then she had to work on lassoing her terror. Her therapist told her to use a kind of replacement therapy: when her brain showed her images of her attack, she should seek to replace them with images of a positive sexual experience, for example, kissing a man she liked and found attractive. Ana didn't know whether or not it would work, but she was willing to give it her all. The older she got, the more crippling an obstacle her virginity would become. She started seeing it as a now-or-never type of proposition.

Hearing the front door open, Ana jumped up to greet Kate. "You're home? I thought for sure you'd be out and about with one of your hunky men."

Ana rolled her eyes. "Nice to see you too, Kate. How's Evan, speaking of which."

Kate strode over to the sofa and plopped down in a very unladylike position. "I really like him, Ana," she responded, green eyes shining. "And… for your information, I did not sleep with him—yet."

"Wow, good for you. I'm impressed." She reached over and gave Kate a peck on the cheek. "But I didn't ask, please note. Want some tea?"

"I'd love some. Lady Grey?" Ana nodded. "So… how's our favorite art professor doing?"

As she walked to the kitchen, Ana casually shrugged her shoulders. She began to dance to the kitchen as a favorite Bowie song popped up on her iPod. "He wants me to become his assistant and—"

"And assist him with what? His penis?"

"Kate! I'm really beginning to regret ever taking this class with you."

Laughing and obviously delighted with herself, she said, "I'm sorry; I couldn't resist. But Ana, I know my men and he wants into your tight little Calvins. Trust me."

"He can lose his job over something like that, Kate. Don't you know that?"

Kate waved her hand in dismissal. "Pish-posh, no one pays any mind to those non-fraternization rules. They're simply archaic."

"No, they're not," Ana insisted. "They're there to protect students from being threatened or intimidated, you know, a kind of sexual extortion. The professor is in a complete power position over the student, after all."

"Yes, and Blake wants to be over you in more ways than one, Ana. Seriously, when was the last time you got laid, girlfriend?"

Ana chose to ignore the question. Kate knew nothing about her status and that's the way she was planning to keep it. "So," she switched the subject swiftly, "what did you and Evan do if not the obvious?"

"Well, all last night we made out like teenagers and you know what? It was hot! I'd forgotten how nice just kissing could be. What a tongue on him." Her eyes narrowed and shone with a glint. "Can't wait to see what else he can manage with it."

Laughing, Ana got up as the tea kettle began whistling. "Is it a long tongue or just versatile?"

"Now who's getting nasty?" Kate winked. "Both, I think. Anyway, I came home last night but you were already asleep. Did you have nightmares? I heard you thrashing about and whimpering."

"Yes," Ana said, frowning. She hadn't known she was that loud—Kate's room was on the other end of the hallway. "Sorry if I woke you."

"Oh, don't worry, sweetie. Sorry you had a rough night. I was lying in my bed, thinking of Evan, and masturbating."

"Kate! Enough already."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You did wake me, silly, but I was meeting Evan for an early breakfast so it was all good. I'm seeing him again tomorrow night so I may take him home then. Is that okay by you?"

"No problem. I texted Blake last night and told him I'd take the job. He wants me to start tomorrow morning for a few hours so I'll try to get home early to shower and change and go back out so I'm not in the way. Maybe I'll swing by Jose's."

"Thanks, baby doll. Just until he and I are comfortable together." She reached over and patted Ana's hand. "Mucho gracias. Now where's that tea?'

Incessant rain pounding on the skylight in her bedroom woke Ana before the alarm had a chance to ring. Disoriented from sleep, she began to worry that the alarm didn't go off and she overslept; she bolted upright in panic. "Fuck! Am I late?"

Another look at the clock and she realized there were seven minutes left until the alarm. She collapsed back onto the bed, cursing the loss of the seven minutes. As she stared at the dirty rivulets of water streaking down the slanted glass of the skylight window, she mused on her upcoming day. _What should I wear? Conservative or student-ish? _Pondering the question, she slid out of bed to head into the shower. As soon as she stepped into the glass-enclosed stall, she heard her cell phone start chiming. Ugh, no. Not getting out. The chimes were really starting to get on her nerves; maybe she'd change her ringtone to Gregorian chants or something.

After drying her hair and applying make-up, Ana stood in front of her closet, chewing her lip. _I definitely need new clothes_, she thought, _my options are mighty slim_. The thermostat outside displayed a chilly 48 degrees so she pulled out a pair of tan corduroy jeans, brown mid-calf boots and a white cotton crew neck sweater. Slipping into the clothes and yanking on the boots, she checked the mirror and nodded with satisfaction, as she threaded a brown belt through the loops of her cords. Perfect. At that moment, she remembered she had a phone call and snatched her cell off the bedside table to see who called. As she brushed her finger across the screen, her other hand was reaching for her earrings on the bedside table—multitasking was one of her fortes.

_Christian Grey_. Damn, now she was sorry she hadn't made a dash for it. She decided to call him later—she could only concentrate on one hottie at a time and right now her thoughts had to be focused on Blake and her new job.

Kate must still be asleep, she thought, as she ransacked the kitchen cabinets looking for the least unhealthy cereal she could find. For someone as bright as Kate, she sure gave short shrift to nutrition, Ana thought, looking with despair at all the sugary options. "Ugh! Peanut butter and chocolate in the morning? How disgusting."

"What's disgusting?"

Ana's head whipped around at the sound of the deep masculine voice. "Oh, hi. Evan, right? I thought you were coming over tonight?"

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling, "When Kate said six, I just naturally assumed she meant a.m. so here I be." He held his arms open wide.

"Seriously? You came over at six a.m.?"

"Well, yeah, but only because I locked myself out of my apartment and couldn't find my roommate anywhere. It's not as if I didn't try, you know," he said, affecting a petulant tone but his eyes were twinkling with amusement.

"Well, as long as you tried then that's okay," she responded in a mollified voice. "I was just commenting on the disgusting cereals Kate tends to favor. I'm looking for granola or something remotely healthy."

"It's easy to make your own."

"There's an idea." Ana checked her watch and squealed. "Oops! Better go. I don't want to be late for my first day on the job."

Evan grinned. "Never a good idea."

Ana grabbed her coffee to go and her satchel, and headed down the stairs to the rear door that led to the parking lot. The rain had let up a bit and the cloud cover looked thin. Maybe the sun would get to poke through later today? Her chocolate-brown Mini Cooper sat ready for her to jump in and zip over to campus.

Blake was waiting for her in his office. Technically she was perfectly on time but Ana would have preferred to get there a couple of minutes early, or at least ahead of him.

"Professor," her voice was breathless from rushing, "I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting. Traffic was a bi—uh, was heavy."

When Blake laughed, Ana discovered, his eyes lit up as if backlit from behind his irises. He was doing it now. "No, Ana. You aren't late at all. I just happened to get here early today. It's not a usual occurrence, I assure you. Though I do appreciate punctuality, I'm not too much of a stickler for it… unless my flexible nature is grossly taken advantage of. Then I might get ugly."

"We wouldn't want that," Ana tried for levity but came off sounding like a squeaky mouse. Truth was, Professor Blake did terrify her. She knew what he was capable of.

But was he ever gorgeous. Her body immediately reacted to his close proximity: heartbeat racing, check; skin perspiring, check; legs rubberizing, check; pelvic innards tightening, check.

Today he had on a pair of dark blue jeans, brown longwing brogues, a perfectly pressed white shirt, untucked, and a camel cashmere cardigan, hanging open. His clothes fit him snugly enough that one could guess at exactly what kind of beauty lurked beneath those clothes. Ana could even smell him from a distance: it was a clean, fresh scent with a subtle hint of cologne laced throughout. Mmm. What would he do if she just threw her arms around his trim waist and embraced him, inhaling lungfuls of his scent? Would he excoriate her as he did the girl who tried flirting with him? Ana was sure he'd do worse.

"Please, Ana, have a seat," he gestured to a chair as he pulled it out. "It is okay if I call you Ana?"

"Oh, yes. Of course," her voice again all breathy, Ana is starting to sound like a bimbo. She watched as Blake pulled up the blinds, opened a window, and turned on his small Tiffany-style lamp. It wasn't a real Tiffany, was it? Having a hint of Blake's expensive taste, it just might be.

After finishing his tasks, he sat down, drew his hands under his chin, and looked intently at her. "So let's get you acclimated. Essentially you'll be doing all sorts of administrative work but since you're an art major, some of it will involve doing research for my book, for which you will receive a credit on the dedication page. Is that acceptable to you?"

"Yes, absolutely." She nodded her head vigorously, excited by the prospect of seeing her name in print, in a prestigious art book, no less. He continued to talk about the various functions of her new job. Ana listened carefully with one part of her brain, absorbing the mass of detail he was imparting. But she was also multitasking; concurrently she was thinking about the professor, musing over details like how old he was, what he looked like as a teenager, where he now lived, and how good a lover he might be. Did he have a girlfriend? Or was he gay? He did dress awfully natty, after all.

When he finished speaking, he looked directly at her with concentrated focus. His weird light eyes filled with amusement and Ana instantly blushed, thinking he knew she hadn't been giving him her full attention. How could she not be distracted by such attributes as his prominent chin with the slight cleft and those red, sensual lips? Ana had a thing for hands and feet—they had to be right for the attraction to be complete. She couldn't see Blake's feet, but his hands were, well, the word perfect sprang to mind.

Her attention deficit was not on the professor's mind, however. Geoffrey Blake was instead amused by how quiet this pretty little student could be while he ranted on, _ad nauseam_. It was a good thing he became a teacher so he could regularly have a captive audience for his continual raves and rants. He had to admit, though, that he found this particular student exceedingly charming and swiftly concluded the arrangement was very auspicious, so much so that he decided then and there to take her out to lunch to celebrate their mutually beneficial opportunity.

Two hours later, the two were seated at a famously sought after eatery. Looking around, aiming for nonchalance, Ana knew the restaurant was not only pricey, but also hard to get reservations for… yet Blake had called only an hour before. Apparently he's a regular patron here and they accommodate him. Though she was starting to feel a bit more comfortable in his exalted presence, she was still a long way off from feeling normal so when he asked her what she'd like to order, she blushed and stammered.

"I'm very familiar with the menu here. Would you like me to order for both of us?"

"Yes, I'd appreciate that. I don't eat red meat, though, just to let you know."

"Oh? For health or ethical reasons?"

She flexed her shoulders. "A little bit of both, I guess."

After the waiter took his order, Professor Blake leaned comfortably back into the leather banquette of their booth, curiously eyeing the young woman in front of him. Ana had ensnared his attention within the initial five minutes of the debut seminar. First sight caught her looks: hers was a delicate beauty with pale skin, and dark hair coupled with the most amazingly clear blue eyes. The combination of dark hair and light eyes was almost irresistible to Blake, odd because that was his own coloring. Narcissism at work? Perhaps. He did think rather highly of himself, often to his detriment.

At second glance, he wondered about her ethnic background. Polish? Perhaps French? Possible. Her name gave nothing away unless she was British. Now that would make sense.

By the third visual circuit around the lecture hall, he began to think about her intellect. She'd already raised her hand to answer a question he'd posed… and answered it correctly, he might add.

The facet of this young woman that ultimately grabbed him, however, and wouldn't let go was her absolute indifference to him as a man. That just didn't happen very often. Women and girls reacted to Geoffrey Blake every single time. They'd see his face first, almost too pretty with his light eyes and black hair yet his square chin and brow ridge screamed masculine, countering the effect. Allowing their eyes to roam farther down once they had their fill of his charms from the shoulders up, they'd take in his superior physique and by then he had them in the bag. Yes, he worked hard to achieve the body he wanted and he enjoyed flaunting it… especially if in doing so, it would get him laid.

Because Professor Blake happened to like sex a little too much for his own good.

The women who managed to get his attention were the ones who kept looking, not yet convinced, after the first run-through of his physical attributes. They're the ones who waited to see what came out of his mouth. If they're smart enough to recognize his genius, then they'd usually make a play for him. Blake found those women to be the prizes among the masses and he usually, with emphasis on usually, restricted himself to those discriminating ladies.

However, he couldn't remember the last time a pretty woman paid him no mind at all, except in the context of the classroom and his academic prowess. Ana was this rare creature and so he'd immediately fixated on her. By the second seminar, he'd decided he had to have her.

It was nearly six when Ana turned the key in the door of her condo. Until the door squeaked open, she didn't even think about her promise to Kate, about making herself scarce for the evening. Leaning against the closed door, she closed her eyes and sighed. She wanted nothing more than to soak in a hot bath, get into her favorite PJs, and crawl between the sheets.

But a promise was a promise, so she settled for a quick reviving shower and threw on some jeans and a nice shirt, about to call Jose to see if he was free. She knew his little sister was coming for a visit soon and she might even already be in Seattle. As she was reaching for her cell, it chimed and she answered without even checking the caller.

"Hello?"

"Ana?"

"Yes, this is Ana." She tried to recognize the silken deep voice in her ear; it was familiar.

"Did you forget me already? I called earlier and left a message."

"Oh. Christian?"

"So you do remember."

"I apologize. I started a new job today so I've been a bit scattered trying to retain everything I need to know. Please forgive me for not getting back to you sooner."

"Or at all, since I'm the one who called you."

Ana felt her face grow flushed at the angry tone of his voice. She supposed Mr. Grey was not used to being treated in this manner. "Again, please accept my apologies. May I ask why you were calling?"

There was the merest of pauses and for a split second, Ana thought the call dropped. "I'd like to see you again. Are you interested?"

"Uh, yes, I'd love to. Um, when is good for you?"

"I know it's extremely short notice but is there any chance you're available this evening?"

"Tonight?" Her voice squeaked and she squeezed her eyes shut and stomped her foot in embarrassment. Clearing her throat, she added, "What time?"

Again, a pause, as if he carefully considers his every response, after a moment he responds. "I made dinner reservations for 8:30."

"Yes, I actually can make it. I was just about to dash over to a friend's but I can change my mind. How shall I dress?"

"You'll need to dress nicely though not formal. A black cocktail dress would suit perfectly, if you have one."

"Yes, I think every woman does. Shall I meet you at the restaurant?'

"No. I'll pick you up at seven-thirty. We'll have a few drinks and then dinner."

"Do you need my address or do you remember it?"

"Ana, I remember everything."

His words caused a chill to run through her. Why did he sound so ominous just now? Suddenly she knew she had to get off the phone to think. "Okay, I'll see you at seven-thirty. Until then."

"Until then." And the line disconnected.


	6. Chapter 6

26

26

A/N: I know this update was a long time coming but this is a long chapter and I have written future chapters, as well (just not Chapter 7 yet, LOL). I wanted to give a word of warning: this Christian is going to be much darker than my CG in my other FF story. Don't be surprised at what's coming down the pike. ;)

Chapter 6

As she was getting ready for her date with Christian Grey, Ana's mind replayed her lunch with Professor Blake. He'd ordered flatbread Margherita pizza with a large Tuscan salad. When she confirmed her age, he added a bottle of Pinot Noir to the order. Ana's first thought upon holding the huge goblet of the wine was that she had better not get drunk, not even tipsy. She didn't want to embarrass herself with her professor, after all. But the deeply garnet wine was so luscious and before she knew it, she'd drunk the entire contents and Blake quickly filled her glass again.

Well, he can't seduce me today, she thought, since we're in a public place and then returning to his not-very-private office so she accepted the second glass, wondering at his motives. Was wine even appropriate for a lunch between a professor and his student? Ana ultimately decided to throw caution to the wind and just enjoy herself. She was never one to stand on formality anyway, nor did she like to judge others by standards imposed by social mores that were outmoded.

The lunch was delicious and he was so charming. After a while, she had a difficult time reconciling the man who'd reduced the female student to tears and the one who sat opposite her, regaling her with various love and family stories of the Renaissance artists. By the end of lunch, she concluded she was perhaps a tiny bit in love with Professor Geoffrey P. Blake—she'd noticed the middle initial on his credit card.

"What's the P for?"

Smiling, his eyes reflected confusion. "Pardon?"

"Your middle initial. P is for…?"

"Patrick."

"Ah. Very Irish."

"That's me by definition. What about you?"

"My mother's a WASC through and through and—"

"A WASP?"

"No, a WASC: White Anglo-Saxon _Catholic_. My father is the quintessential American mixed breed—a little bit of this and a little bit of that. I think my maternal grandparents wanted to hire a hit man to rub him out when he first showed up at their very proper doorstep to court my mother. Even though I have lowly blood running through my veins, my grandparents still deign to love me."

He laughed, genuinely amused at her self-deprecating humor. "That's a good thing, certainly."

By the time their hour was up, she was feeling a little tipsy yet very content. "Professor, thank you for lunch. I had a very nice time."

"As did I, Ana. Ready to get back to work now?" When she nodded her assent, he stood quickly and crossed to her, pulling back her chair back to allow her to rise. His manners were impeccable, she noted. Was there anything wrong with him, other than the occasional shredding of an innocent girl? She'd yet to see it. Being in such close physical proximity to him wrought its effects on her, _in_ her, sending her pulse thundering in her ears and chest, and inducing her body to perspire. Ana recognized the whole domino effect: she was sexually attracted to the man. It was highly inappropriate and she chastised herself for even entertaining such an idea… but as her eyes tracked up to the tall man, his eerie ones seemed to be encouraging her response. Or was she imagining the whole thing?

The four-block walk back to campus served to clear Ana's head and by the time they were once again ensconced in Blake's office, she felt more than capable of doing work. He showed her his filing system and what needed to be hard copy and what could be stored in electronic files. Ana knew it must be her wishful imagination but it seemed to her that Blake was taking every opportunity to get physically close to her without being too obvious. It had to be her imagination, right? Why would he bother? It just didn't make sense.

"Oh," he said, coming over to stand next to her at the computer, "let me show you how to access my book's research file." He leaned his left arm around her back, resting his hand on the antique banker's chair armrest, his face inches away from hers as he directed the icon with his right hand on the mouse. If she turned up her face to him, would he kiss her? The temptation was titanic but she marshaled all of her resources to resist it. Finally, he moved out of her space and she was able to breathe freely again. He wouldn't have kissed her even if she did raise her face, right? Next time it happened she'd be brave enough to test the theory.

For Blake's part, he was enjoying himself immensely, getting into Ana's space and watching her squirm. He knew she wanted him: her respiration became faster and her eyes dilated a bit when he moved very close to her, ostensibly to show her how to do something. In reality, he was challenging her to either pull away and set some boundaries or invite him even closer. We'll see, he thought, looking forward to the chase.

The pair worked in dedicated fashion throughout the ensuing two and a half hours, during which time Ana decided that she (and Kate) was being ridiculous about him crushing on her. Blake just wanted a hardworking assistant and thought he might find one in her. Ana resolved that he would and directed all of her focus to learning how things ran in his office. Before she knew it the clock read 5:17. Time to go.

She cleared her throat. "Professor?"

Engrossed in some reading material, he took a while to look up, his face questioning. "Yes?"

"Is it okay with you if I leave for the day?"

Checking his watch, he looked startled. "What? That can't be right. Is it after five? I do apologize, Ana. I hadn't realized it was so late. Of course you may go. Can you work again tomorrow?"

"I have an early class. If I could come after, around ten?"

"Ten? I'll be in my class at that time. Here, let me give you a key to my office. The file cabinets will be locked as a necessity but you can access the computer and do general organizing, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all." She held her hand out for the key and his hand brushed hers. On purpose? She was going to drive herself crazy with this and it was all Kate's fault. "I'll see you tomorrow then. Have a nice evening."

He nodded and smiled—it was a warm, beautiful smile meant just for her. She waved and exited the room.

Getting caught in rush-hour traffic turned a fifteen-minute ride into a forty-minute commute. When she finally made it home, it was almost six.

Now she was rushing to get ready to see her other male beauty. What was up with her these days anyway, surrounded by all these hunky however intimidating men? Stepping out of a seven-minute shower, she headed to the closet to peruse her wardrobe. Speedily rifling through the crowded hangers, she mused about whether her mother and grandparents would prefer Christian Grey or Geoffrey Blake for husband potential. She knew her grandparents were highly disappointed in her mother's choice of spouse—they'd never made any secret out of it but her father gave less than a damn about what his snooty in-laws thought of him.

Ana's mother came from a very wealthy family. The Randalls had made their money only in the last generation—but it was quite a lot of it. Ana's maternal grandfather, Lawrence Randall, started out in the proverbial mailroom of a large commercial real estate firm. Using a combination of savvy and schmoozing, he'd impressed the management enough within the first year of his employment to give him a try as an agent, then a broker. After ten years there, carefully cultivating his client list, he branched out on his own. Eventually, he included high-end residential real estate in his portfolio of properties. He'd made the Forbes list a couple of years after he established Randall Properties LLC.

The Randall family was firmly in the class that used to be known as _nouveau riche_. Members of the old guard, what was charmingly coined _old money_, scorned them. The old moneyed were the bluebloods: affluent for countless generations, they were well-bred members of the elite and for years they frowned upon the new rich. Of late, the distinction between the two didn't seem all that important to younger people but twenty-plus years ago, it was the only currency traded for true social acceptance among the upper echelon of society.

Ana's father, on the other hand, was an ordinary man with an ordinary job. Ben Steele began his professional career working for a landscaper as a teen. For years he toiled among gardens and trees, learning as he worked and got his hands dirty. When he met Ana's mother, Maura Randall, he was in the process of applying to college programs in landscape architecture. Much to her parents' chagrin and despite her father's wily machinations, they married during his second year of college. Ana made her debut on earth shortly thereafter.

The marriage was solid, still going strong after twenty-four years. Lawrence Randall had to finally and grudgingly admit it was a good union. That admission came only a few years ago.

Where was her black dress? Ana felt the panic begin to percolate in her bloodstream because she could not find it and time was running thin. She'd already torn the closet apart and it was nowhere to be seen. Oh, no. Did Kate borrow it? Usually it was the other way around since Kate liked to shop far more than Ana did, and her voluminous closet proved it. Preferring to order online, Ana frequently ended up returning things because they didn't fit or didn't look as nice in person. Kate could spend an entire day shopping; as a result her wardrobe was brimming. Sighing, Ana realized it was time to go shopping in Kate's closet. Christian would be here within a half hour's time.

Kate had, like, four black dresses. Why she had to take Ana's, she'd never know. Was it because Ana's one dress was nicer than all four of Kate's? Probably. She flipped through the dresses, scrutinizing and rejecting each one until she came upon a new one she'd not yet seen. It was mostly black but it had a thick white band on top of the square neckline. The material was crepe de chine so though it hugged the figure, it didn't look too tight. Perfect.

Right off the bat, she knew which pair of shoes she'd wear: her black Prada heels. She almost wore her black Louboutins—five fucking inches of sexy heel—but they had a red sole and heel and that would be too racy for the classic dress she was wearing. Next time. The Prada shoes were cut with similar lines to the dress so they were suited perfectly. Hmm. Perfect, perfectly, perfection: it occurred to her she'd been using that word in all its forms quite a bit lately. What was going on with the universe?

At precisely seven-thirty, the black Lexus sedan pulled in front of her building. Ana had been ready and waiting in the lobby so she stepped outside so Christian wouldn't have to come in to get her. He emerged from the rear and walked over to her.

"Good evening, Ana. You look quite beautiful."

Ana blushed: she loved compliments but when they came from Christian, she felt shy about receiving them. There was something about his commanding personality that reduced her to feeling like an insecure, naïve child. "Thank you. I rather like the way my date looks, too."

She did. Always dressed impeccably, as far as she could tell, tonight was no exception to the rule. He wore a snug -fitting cashmere button-down sweater in charcoal with a vee-neck, over a white silk tee-shirt. He coupled it with black trousers and a black wool four-pocket jacket. Right off the page of a Ralph Lauren or Hugo Boss ad and if anyone could pull off the look, it was the tall and elegantly proportioned Christian Grey.

He smiled at her compliment and held out his hand. "Come. We'll be a little early for our reservation but we can have a drink at the bar while we wait for our table. Do you have an early morning tomorrow?"

Despite being more than a half hour early for their reservation, the maître 'd seated them immediately—money talks. Although Ana's grandparents were stupidly wealthy, her parents were, at most, merely comfortable financially, thus Ana was never entirely relaxed with extreme affluence—but she wasn't a stranger to it either. She could tell right off the bat when she met him that Christian was well-heeled, to use an understatement. It was the ease he displayed with expensive things like suits and cars. Comfortable with great wealth means having it for a while.

Christian Grey sat across the table from Ana, musing over the vagaries of fate. He remembered the conversation he overheard his parents having when he was nineteen and home from college for the holiday break.

It was a terrible time—the worst—for Christian: there was the "incident" at prep school four years before, one that sent him into years of intense fucking therapy. Now he could laugh about it, thinking about cause and effect, actions and consequences, sins and retribution, wrongs and vengeance. Compounding that, he arrived home that weekend only to learn his father was under indictment for embezzlement and securities fraud. The neighbors, formerly very good friends—were all aghast, and scurrying like rats to distance themselves from the tainted Grey family.

For four years the family lived under a black cloud while his father served out his sentence for fraud in a minimum-security prison. The scandal eventually blew over but the collective reputation of their family was ruined for at least a generation or two.

But that overheard conversation involved the Randall girls, not the securities fraud. Years before, when their children were young, Lawrence Randall and Christian's father had always planned for their respective son and daughter to connect romantically—why, was anyone's guess. Randall had two very pretty daughters: Maura and Lauren. Maura was six years older than Christian so she was out of the running, but her younger sister Lauren was a possibility at only a year older. Moreover, the two actually liked each other.

But after his father came under indictment, suddenly the Randalls were no longer quite so chummy with the Greys. Christian didn't give a shit—he could get any girl he wanted, indictment or no indictment. But he knew his father was smarting from the desertion of all his pretentious friends, especially thorny considering that the name of Grey was of a much higher caliber of social class than almost all of the others living in their snooty residential enclave.

Maura, however, and her husband, Ben Steele, happened to have an adorable little daughter named Ana. Christian, of course, didn't know the child; why would a nineteen-year-old college boy bother with anything to do with a five-year-old child? Besides, after what the Randalls did to his parents, Christian had no time for any of them.

No time, that was, until he happened to meet an all-grown-up Ana Steele one night at a business event in his honor. It took him hours to make the connection with her name, and when he realized the coincidence, it floored him at first. Eventually, he came to view it as just another part of his manifest destiny.

As for the Randalls, well, he'd already, for the most part, ruined them financially over the past ten years. Of course, they didn't know there was design behind their spate of financial bad luck. Sometimes one wants his revenge to be known but often one settles for his revenge to be merely felt—and felt hard. In this case, Christian considered it the wiser path to follow.

Making their precious granddaughter his lover would be another slap in the Randall family's face. Perhaps he would set up her as his mistress and let the fact be known? Whatever the outcome he would select, without a doubt Ana Steele would be his and he'd ensure the Randalls would know all the details. There was more, however, than his hatred for her family that was compelling his hand. He actually liked the girl and found her amalgamation of innocence, native intelligence, and cluelessness endlessly fascinating. Consequently, when Christian spotted Ana earlier today in a restaurant with another man, the white-hot fury gripped his chest like a burning fist. If that SOB, whoever he was, thought he was going to pull Ana away, he had another think coming. He'd watched from a distance until he was satisfied they weren't romantic… _yet_. If Christian had anything to say about it—and he would—they never would be.

Now she sat across from him looking every bit as lovely as he remembered. Her dark, shiny hair was pulled back in a loose knot and she wore just the right amount of make-up to look well groomed but not painted up in a tawdry fashion as some women favor. Her youth was her primary adornment and he appreciated it. She wore a black and white crepe dress, black sheer stockings, and black stilettos. In a word, she looked edible.

Smiling warmly at her, he poured more wine into her glass. "I appreciate your being able to have dinner with me on such short notice, Ana. I've been thinking about you."

Ana returned his smile, allowing herself a long moment to drink him in. He usually wore suits, as businessmen tend to do, but tonight he'd opted to change into more casual attire. She approved of this new look on him: he struck her as a man who knew how to dress for any occasion, a not so common ability among hetero men.

"I've been thinking about you, too… and reading about you, as well. You have a very impressive reputation."

"Oh? What impressed you, particularly?"

Christian looked as if he awaited her answer with interest and wasn't just making small talk. "Everything," she said lightly. "You've certainly accomplished quite a lot for a man your age."

"I'm not all that young anymore, Ana. I'm touching forty with a long stick at this point."

She laughed in response and her humor animated her whole countenance. It appeared that everything she did, she did wholeheartedly, whether it was laughing, flirting, thinking, or dining. From his limited knowledge of her, it appeared she lived her life with gusto… and he liked that quality, liked it very much. Otherwise, why bother with anything if you don't wring as much enjoyment out of the experience as possible?

"Still. Many people don't accomplish even a fraction of what you've managed in their whole lifetimes. Don't make light of it."

"Okay, I won't. I'm spectacular."

She laughed.

"… but I don't want to talk about my professional life tonight. I'd like to talk about something infinitely more interesting."

"…and that is?"

"You, naturally. Last time we met, we didn't talk much beyond superficial details. Tell me all about what you're studying in school and why. Tell me about the… people in your life right now. Tell me, oh, I don't know, your favorite colors or about your last vacation."

As Ana shared details of her life enthusiastically, he analyzed her body language and facial expressions. He was adept at reading people, after years of anticipating his opponents' next moves in business dealings. He already knew quite a lot about Ana Steele, from their limited time together and the report his private investigator put together for him. What he didn't know was how long he'd have to wait before she'd sleep with him. Once they were lovers, she was in the bag, so to speak. On that point, he had no concerns.

The report had little information about her love life: brief descriptions of casual male acquaintances. He'd even had her followed for the last week in the hope that it would reveal something more. That's how he knew she was at that trendy restaurant, _A Movable Feast_, with that man, whoever he was. He'd headed there the moment the information was relayed to him via a phone call. He'd quickly rescheduled the meeting due to begin in minutes with his executive staff and practically ran out the door. Getting stuck in traffic was immensely frustrating, so he fled the cab and walked the rest of the way. By the time he made it to the restaurant, he assumed Ana had already left the establishment. It took him all of two minutes to spot her and he did not like what he saw.

The man was young and handsome and they made a very attractive couple. Christian felt the jolt throughout his body: was he really jealous over a girl he barely knew? The answer was in his thundering pulse: yes. But he continued to calmly watch, snagging an empty table with a hundred dollar bill and his business card. By the conclusion of their meal, he'd decided they weren't yet romantic but he'd bet the contents of his checking account that the man was going to do his best to remedy that situation. Christian, however, would do his best to ensure the man wasn't successful.

"So… art? What made you choose that path? Was it solely talent… or was something else at play?" Christian's face wore an interested expression, as if he were hanging onto her every word.

Ana's face colored slightly. "I was never overly confident about my artistic talent but I figured that even if I weren't a brilliant artist, I could still work peripherally in that world. Hence, art history is my strong suit… although I love to take studio classes."

"Mmm." On the surface, he was an attentive listener, carefully considering the life details Ana was sharing. Inside his black heart, though, he was wondering how long he'd have to wait to fuck her and could it possibly be tonight? He wanted to brand Ana as his own as soon as humanly possible to freeze the other guy out… and because he really liked Ana Steele.

From time to time, Ana would notice a strange light enter Christian's eyes and pondered what it was all about but he didn't allow her to dwell on it for very long—he kept the conversation flowing. She also considered the possibility that he might think the night would end in his bed. How many dates did he generally have to wait before sleeping with a woman? Probably not many, if any at all, she'd wager. Well, he was going to find her a unique challenge, if that was the case. The very next thought that invaded her brain was the likelihood of her capitulating to him sexually. Would it happen with Christian or Geoffrey? Ana really didn't know but she was hopeful it would happen with one of the two men… and soon.

"…Ana?"

"I'm so sorry; I was distracted. What did you say?"

His eyes slightly narrowed; apparently Mr. Grey was not at all used to being ignored. She'd bet that everyone around him hung on his every word. "I'm not in the habit of repeating myself, Ana," he said without a trace of humor, confirming her suspicions, "however, I'll make an exception now. I asked you if you'd be interested in a tour of my home? It's quite impressive at night."

"May I take a rain check? It's just that I have an early morning class and then I'm scheduled to work with my professor."

"Your professor?" He might have just learned who her lunch partner was this afternoon. Anger coiled like rope in his intestines, taking him by surprise. How could he feel such an intense possessiveness about a mere slip of a girl whom he barely knew? Yet he did.

"Yes, I've taken a job as my art professor's assistant. I just started today, as a matter of fact."

Bingo. All the more reason to get her into bed tonight. "It won't take long, Ana," he reassured her, his voice as smooth as _Tupelo_ honey. "I think you might enjoy it and I'll have you home before midnight."

Checking her watch and noting it wasn't even nine yet, she relented. "If you promise I'll be home before midnight then, yes, I'll be happy for the tour."

He grinned, his lips stretching from ear to ear, revealing his shiny, white teeth. They were so pretty that they looked harmless, yet the benign appearance belied the razor sharpness of the incisors. If Ana had known him better, she'd have realized why this smile was different from his usual, suave expressions of pleasure: this was the smile of the hunter sensing his prey was weakening and readying himself to move in for the kill.

Ana sat in his car next to him after dinner, troubled. What was marring the evening for her was Christian's volatility: one minute he was warm and charming, the next he was cold and aloof. Ana didn't know what exactly was the catalyst for each mood but she did notice that when she didn't pay very close attention to him, he got pissy. For God's sake, how old was this guy? Ten? Mr. Grey needed to do some growing up emotionally.

Christian surreptitiously watched Ana: he had to admit he was terribly curious as to what was going on in her head. She seemed distracted, not paying all that much attention to him so something else was occupying her thoughts. But what precisely? Was it her professor? The mere thought rocketed his ire back up to the surface and he felt heat in his belly. That bastard better stay away from his Ana or else. In fact, perhaps Christian would make a hefty donation to the school and quietly suggest the professor needed watching. He'd certainly done it before, his machinations always behind the scene but no less potent for the privacy. He'd think about it later. Right now, he was planning his seduction of Ana Steele and needed to marshal all his energies and charm, accordingly. She would not be an easy conquest, he suspected, so he'd best be on his A game.

Five minutes later his driver Stephen pulled up to the front entrance of his condominium. Christian waited while Stephen got out and opened his door, and then went around himself to get Ana, nodding at his driver. "That will be all for today, Stephen. I'll take Ms. Steele home by taxi. Good night."

"Yes, Mr. Grey. Good night."

Another nod at the driver and he put his hand on Ana's back, escorting her into the building. When they bypassed the bank of elevators, she looked at him inquiringly.

"I'm one of the two penthouse apartments. Each one has a private elevator that opens right into the apartment."

"Oh. Doesn't that make you nervous?"

"No. It's very secure: one must have both a security code and a key to get the elevator moving. I rather like it for I don't have to bother being friendly with my neighbors." At her raised brow, he added, "I'm a very private person, Ana, and usually have a lot on my mind. My home, therefore, must be a refuge for me. I'm sure you understand."

She managed a small smile in acknowledgement. "Of course, Christian."

When the elevator doors slid open, Ana stepped out into an entrance foyer dripping in luxury, floor to ceiling. On the floor was Italian marble; the walls were draped in rich wallpaper, and a magnificent antique mirror, as well as several paintings and prints, were strategically placed on the wall. Ana was sure one was an original Picasso and another a Matisse. Hmm. So Mr. Grey is a modern art aficionado. Good to know.

He noticed her eyes gravitate to the art. "Ah, that's right. An art major would recognize the quality of my art collection."

"Yes," she responded, her face flushing with heat. The disconcerting thing about this man was his penetrating attention: it felt as if he could see right through all her walls, recognizing any artifice or pretense. It was difficult to be in his presence.

"Come in and have a glass of wine. Then I'll give you the grand tour."

She followed him through the double height entry into a magnificent great room, complete with bar. He poured them each a glass of red, handing one to her with a smile. "I think you'll appreciate this one, if you like wine at all."

She took the glass, noting the clarity of the Malbec. The glass itself was spectacular and Ana had often noted that wine tasted much better when served in an appropriate glass. Something about the way it could breathe in the glass or whatever. Right now she wasn't paying close attention to the wine, though. How could she, in this room?

It was incredible: gleaming dark wood floors swept across the large room, painted ivory walls that had the depth of Venetian plaster, magnificent iron and glass chandeliers hanging in a row, elegant yet comfortable sofas and chairs, all in coordinating, opulent fabrics, arranged in companionable sets, a roaring fire in a floor to ceiling stone masterpiece of a fireplace, obviously crafted by a masterful mason. The ceilings soared to at least fifteen feet, if not twenty, and each chandelier hung from a beautiful and ornate medallion. Despite all the luxury in the room, it somehow remained simple and understated. Ana took a healthy swig of her wine, feeling just a little intimidated. The whole time she could feel his eyes boring holes into her.

"Allow me to put on some music and then I'll lead you around. Excuse me for a moment." Christian went to plug in an iPod, giving her time to drink a bit. He actually considered slipping something into her wine, just a sedative to relax her, but that would be cheating and he didn't know if she had an adverse reaction to drugs. Better safe than sorry, he'd stick to the power of alcohol. When he returned to Ana, he happily noted her glass was almost empty. He picked up the bottle and quickly refilled the glass, speaking at the same time to distract her. "Okay, let's head into the kitchen first."

Ana walked right behind him as they first went into a formal dining room, which boasted another breathtaking hearth and antique mahogany furnishings. Plantation shutters and Dupioni silk drapes in a champagne color graced the multiple windows and the table looked capable of seating twenty without adding any leaves. Christian had very excellent taste in just about everything, Ana noted with approval, appreciating the lines of the buffet and the craftsmanship of the furniture in general. The chandelier in here was a bit softer but equally impressive: it was also iron, its candelabra wrapped in a raw silk shade that matched the drapes. Small sconces made of iron and mica punctuated every few feet of the walls, giving off a soft glow. Then they were in the kitchen.

"Wow," Ana exclaimed. "This is just… I'm at a loss for words." And she was. Commercial-grade appliances made of smoked tempered glass and stainless steel were the jewelry, along with the magnificent burnished nickel of the faucets gracing the prep and kitchen sink, as well as the pot filler. The counters were soapstone; the island was Carrera marble, the floor a buttery limestone. Dark cherry cabinetry lined all four walls and the ceiling was awash in warm light from the recessed fixtures, the glow bouncing off the reflective tin ceiling. Ana took another gulp from her wine glass and realized she was nearly finished with it, despite his having topped it off. She'd better stop while she was still on her feet.

Christian laughed at her delight with the room and poured more wine into her glass. Did he carry the bottle with him?

"Actually, Christian, I think I've had enough wine for the evening. I have an early morning tomorrow and I wouldn't want to be hung over at work, especially considering I've just begun working there."

"Ana, I couldn't imagine you hung over… ever. Anyway, is it even possible to have a hangover from wine? I think not… and the night is still young. Come, I'll show you the bedrooms and the various terraces."

Uh-oh, she thought. Did she want to see the bedrooms? Was he going to make a play for her so soon? If he did, should she just go for it, try to go through with it already? It was only their second date.

Grasping her hand, he opened a door with his other one and led her into the master bedroom. It was very large but still cozy somehow—it must be the hardwood floors that lent an intimacy to all the rooms. The bedroom had an ivory area rug that almost but not quite went from wall to wall. The bed was huge and placed in the center of the room, against the rear wall and facing the balcony. Christian guided her over to the balcony and opened the door. At their feet was a carpet of twinkling city lights. It was spectacular.

"Christian, this is beyond gorgeous."

Laughing, he said, "No, Ana, _you_ are gorgeous. This view is pretty." With one finger he pushed her hair out of her face and then ran it down the side of her cheek. "May I kiss you, Ana?"

"Yes," she answered breathily and tilted her face up toward him.

He leaned down and softly brushed his lips against hers and lifted his face away, gazing into her eyes. All of a sudden she couldn't bear the scrutiny from those eyes and she closed hers. He was holding her face in both hands and he began to kiss her again, this time a bit rougher and with more urgency. Ana could feel the whole domino chain begin, the one that inevitably led to her pushing the man away. She knew in her gut that he was going to go for it tonight. What she didn't know was what the end result would be. Further, she wasn't sure she wanted to choose Christian over Geoffrey. Ana wasn't sure of anything right about now but Christian kept kissing her relentlessly.

"Christian," she managed to get out between kisses but he didn't allow her anything more—she could barely draw a breath in between his kisses. His hands began to run up and down her arms, stoking her hotter but she felt the edges of panic begin to claim her. She needed to tell him what was up with her, warn him. But he never gave her the chance.

As soon as Christian felt her body begin to respond to him, he gently backed her up toward the bed, moving only a few steps at a time and never taking his lips from hers. He wanted to move down her throat and kiss her beautiful skin, open her dress and kiss her breasts, but he didn't dare leave her mouth open to speak. Instinctively, he knew the word _no_ would emerge from between those red, swelling lips. If she said no, he'd have to stop… and stopping was the last thing he wanted to do. So he stayed on her mouth and let his hands do the roaming instead.

Ana felt her body heating up for Christian, knew what he was doing to her, but felt unable to stop it. Rather than push him away, her arms wrapped around his head and pulled him even closer, now kissing him back. At that point she felt something solid behind her knees and knew it was the bed. He held the nape of her neck firmly as he gently pushed her down onto the mattress. She clung to him to keep from falling but he had her in a firm grip. As soon as she was on her back, he was on top of her, pinning her down, rubbing his body against hers in the age-old dance of man and woman.

She had to stop him, explain to him that she was about to freak out, but his mouth was delicious, and his hands felt so good running up and down her body, at some points caressing, at others rubbing harder to create friction. She could feel the teeth of her zipper letting go, as it slid down the back of her dress, felt the sides of the dress buckle open in back, followed by his hand running on naked skin from nape to lower spine, and then lower, slipping beneath her panties to caress the skin on her backside. This time might be the farthest she'd gotten with a man before losing it but she knew the rolling panic would be coming… and he'd have no warning. She wanted to tell him but couldn't find a moment to do so.

Then his hands went back up to her shoulders and slipped the dress down, along with her bra, in the same movement. She felt the cool air on her breasts and wondered when he'd move his lips from hers, sensing his game plan of not allowing her to say no. His hands moved to her breasts and began to make the fire in her belly ever hotter.

Could this be the time she'd win over the panic? She decided to let herself go with it for now.

He had her dress and bra off but her panties were still on. She could feel her body responding ever more to his and she began to believe that she could really do it this time. Should she even tell him it was her first? Feeling brazen, she began to run her hands over his body, beginning with his broad shoulders and slinking down to his slim hips, his rock hard thighs. It was at that moment his hand slipped beneath her panties and touched her intimately. Her body reacted automatically by freezing and she began to shake. He finally stopped kissing her and lifted his face up.

"Ana, what's wrong?"

She could see his alarm but she couldn't answer him, couldn't summon the breath to push words out of her mouth. He sat up, bringing her with him and held her face, alarm giving over to near panic.

"Ana! Can you speak?'

She nodded, closed her eyes and tried to draw in a deep breath of oxygen. Better. "Just wait," she croaked out, concentrating on her breathing pattern. She managed to bring herself out of it in a couple of minutes.

"I need to explain, Christian. Can you just give me a minute?"

Waiting patiently, he sat still, his only movement his hand on her hair, very slowly stroking his fingers through the tangles. When she got her respiration under control, she grasped his hand.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you beforehand… but I didn't expect to be in this compromising situation with you just yet."

"I apologize if I rushed you. I hadn't planned on it either," he lied. "The opportunity just presented itself."

Ana recognized the lie but allowed him to have it. She nodded. "I have… issues, Christian… with intimacy."

"Issues?"

Her face heating up, she decided to be proactive and just come out with the whole thing. It might be freeing, to speak of it after so many years of hiding it in the proverbial closet. "I've been trying to work through a problem I've had for a long time, Christian. I was… sexually molested as a child and I've been unable to consummate a relationship with a man ever since. I've been working with a therapist and she thinks I'm ready but so far…" she shook her head and just trailed off.

"So far?" he prodded. "Do you mean to tell me you've never been with a man?"

"It's ridiculous, isn't it, at twenty-three? But, yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you. I've been in therapy for years and I've been progressing. I didn't used to be able to get close enough to kiss a man and now I can. Each time I get a little bit braver—I've never gotten as close with anyone as with you, though. I suppose I am making progress."

She waited while he digested the information. When he finally moved, he grasped her arms and turned her around, her back to him and began to massage the tension out of her shoulders, calming her. While he did, he spoke softly to her. "Ana, I had a very traumatic experience as a teenager so I understand what such a thing can do to an impressionable young person. I completely understand… but I'd like you to trust me enough to help you through it if you think you're ready to see it through to its completion."

"Now," she asked.

"We don't have to finish it tonight but I think we've taken an important step. How about for now you just let me kiss you?"

She nodded. Things were okay until he began to touch her intimately—that was the trigger, the thing that caused her to seize up mentally and physically.

Christian pushed her back down onto the bed and lay beside her, his hand running up and down her arm, her face, and then eventually her leg. He also realized what the catalyst was for her freezing up and so he studiously avoiding go anywhere near her lower half. It made him wonder exactly what was done to her but asking her would be too much too soon. He thought he was up to the task of a successful seduction and just needed another night with her and a few glasses of wine down her throat. For now, he'd spend the next hour getting her used to his touch. Besides, she had beautiful breasts and they were high enough to play with without her going under again.

A virgin. He couldn't believe his good fortune. He'd be her first and only man and now that the stakes were anted, he'd ensure that academic wouldn't get near his Ana. The problem was timing: she mentioned she had to work for him tomorrow and there was no valid reason he could come up with to keep her from going to work. But he could ensure she was with him after work and he'd figure out a way to let the professor know, loud and clear, that Ana was spoken for.

At eleven Christian offered to take her home. They'd spent nearly two hours lying in bed together, doing nothing but kissing and touching each other. Ana had gotten brave: she'd ventured to touch him everywhere but where he'd most like to feel her soft hands but it was still progress.

The building doorman got them a taxi in less than a minute. When the car drove up in front of Ana's condo, she turned to Christian.

"Thank you for tonight—it was a nice evening, Christian."

He smiled, for even in the dim light, he could see her blushing. He wondered when the last time was that he himself felt embarrassed enough to blush? Had to be so many years ago. "I should thank you for the wonderful evening, Ana. Can we do it again tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" she practically squeaked. "Um, I'm not certain. Can I call you in the afternoon to let you know?"

"Absolutely not. I want a firm answer right now."

She waited a beat for him to laugh and say he was kidding. When it never came, she realized he was serious. And he was. Since he intentionally left his hand on her waist, Christian could feel her tense up when he gave her no choice. Good. Let her get used to the feel of his control: she'd be experiencing it more and more as time went on.

"If I have to give you a definite answer now, I'd have to decline. I'm sorry, but I'm just not sure of my plans right now."

He tightened his grip on her. "Why aren't you sure?"

"I don't know what hours I'll be required to work. If it's late when I finish, I'll probably just want to go home for the night."

"You'll still have to eat dinner, won't you?"

"I suppose so."

"Then it's settled. I'll pick you up from the campus when you get off from work and we'll have dinner. It could still be an early night for you." He added the last part to reassure her, even though he had no intention of allowing her to go home.

"Alright. I suppose I can do that. I'll phone you tomorrow when I know what hours I'll be working. Goodnight."

She scrambled to get out of the cab but he held her in place, forcing her to wait until he got out to open her door. He told the cabdriver he'd be right back and walked her to the door, giving her a quick kiss and watching her go in. He didn't want to be too forceful tonight—there was tomorrow night for that.


	7. Chapter 7

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A/N: Hey all you fabulous people out there in readerland: I'd like to hear from you, as many as possible. I'm thinking of pulling this story off this site and putting it up on Wordpress or Fictionpress. The main reason for this possible move is because the CG character is so radically removed from the actual CG that he's barely recognizable. Also, the story becomes very dark before any light gets in so it may be disappointing to a lot of you. Further, it's not a BDSM love story at all. It will also necessitate two books to finish the story. So, let me know your thoughts on this possibility. In the interim, I'll keep posting chapter updates here.

Chapter 7

The shrill peal of the alarm ripped into her dream, half-nightmare, half-erotic fantasy, and tore Ana into consciousness in a nanosecond. Disoriented, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, forgetting for a few moments where she was and what she had to do. Looking around, she acclimated. "School. Work. Then dinner with Christian Grey," she said aloud to the four walls. She shook her head. Maybe she should get a dog to talk to, rather than herself: the company had to be better.

Hot water spraying forcefully on her head and face revived her and her mind began spinning with possibilities. She knew she couldn't see Grey again tonight, not after yesterday evening's date with him. While Ana was fairly desperate to break the sexual block left in place by her _ordeal_, as her mother labeled the near rape, she was leery of pursuing anything further with the man. Last night had provided her with a flash into his true personality and she didn't like what she peeked into, not in the least bit. In a moment of profound and intuitive insight, she understood that if she gave him her virginity, his proprietary streak would take over. He'd automatically consider her chattel, his property, and at that very moment, Ana Steele would cease to exist as a separate and autonomous entity. For that reason alone, she would back off from Christian, as compelling as he was.

The next matter to consider was just exactly how to do it.

Half an hour later found Ana in her compact auto, her coffee divided between the mug in the cup holder and her lap. Fuck, fuck, fuck! She railed at the gods and her parents for her faulty DNA. Could she not drink a single cup of joe without wearing half of it? She was so comfy, too, in her light tan cords but, fortunately, she kept a spare pair of jeans in the trunk for just such emergencies. She'd gotten tired of having to race over to _Annie Sez_ every time she spilled breakfast or lunch on herself on the way to work or an important meeting.

She just made it to her class on time. She'd popped into the restroom to switch out the pants, take a quick pee, and race to Hamden Hall for her morning class. According to how her day was progressing, of course they had a surprise quiz in her Greek and Etruscan art history class. Considering how things were going, Ana was almost certain her bailing out on Christian would be a fiasco. But, whatever.

At eight minutes after ten, she unlocked the door to Blake's office and immediately began to organize his desk. He must have worked late last night because when she left him, the desk was neat and upon returning this morning, it was a hot mess. While she attempted some order to the chaos, his phone began to ring, one call after another, with barely a minute between them. For Christ's sake, Ana thought, how does he ever get anything done if he gets so many calls? When he walked in at eleven thirty, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Boy, am I happy to see you," Ana exclaimed.

His eyes lit up… in amusement? Or was he happy to see her? Here we go again.

"Well, Ana, I'm happy you're happy. Why, though? Is it my new sweater?"

Her eyes automatically fell to his sweater, even though he was obviously kidding. It was a beautiful sweater, _apropos_ for the discriminating academic: a camel hair cardigan, form fitting and meticulously detailed.

Her face flushed, she quickly realized she'd dropped herself right into a hole. "Uh, your sweater is very nice and you look good in it, but no, I'm glad to see you because your phone has been ringing nonstop."

"Ah, welcome to my world. My secret," he said as he punched some buttons on the complicated phone, "is to transfer all the calls to voice mail first thing in the morning." He looked up and winked as the phone went quiet.

"And it doesn't ring in here?"

"No because I have it on mute. A light flashes but you learn to ignore it after awhile. Better?"

"Infinitely."

"So, my sweater?" He arched his eyebrows. "Good?"

"Very." She cleared her throat. "What should we tackle today?"

Blake decided they'd tackle a stack of correspondence that had accumulated over the break between semesters. Some required verbal responses, some written. They made separate piles, depending on what action needed to be taken and within two hours, they'd made it through most of the mountain of paper.

"Time for lunch," Blake announced. "Hungry?"

Ana glanced at the clock: it was almost one. Wow, time flies in the company of Professor Blake. "Yes, I guess I'll run out and get a sandwich. May I get you something?"

"I thought we might go together, if that's not too forward. Yesterday's lunch was such a success, after all." He smiled, a dazzling display of perfect white teeth. "At least, I thought it was but I suppose I shouldn't be so arrogant as to make assumptions about how you felt."

Turned out, she felt the same.

Today was Mexican since yesterday was pizza. Professor Blake knew of a little dive that made the best potato tacos this side of Tijuana. Ana ate much more than she should have and was ready for a nap all too soon.

At three-thirty, Ana's cell phone vibrated. She looked at the screen: Christian. Oh, shoot: she'd forgotten to call him. "Professor, I apologize but I need to take this call."

"Go right ahead, Ana. It's not a problem."

Nodding, she swiped her finger across the screen to answer. "Hi, Christian."

On the other end of the line was a supremely confident man's voice, and that made Ana nervous, as if she were no match for him in a game of wits. "Ana, what time shall I pick you up?"

"Oh, yes, I meant to call you about tonight. I've been feeling a bit off all day today. I think it's best if I head straight home; I'm sorry to bail on you at the last minute."

The ensuing pause was so protracted she thought he'd disconnected, at first. Then his voice came through loud and clear. "Then don't. Very simple."

She felt her face heat up. "I just told you, though, that I'm not feeling well."

"I'm sure I can make you feel better, Ana. In fact, I can promise it."

She was about to cave and give in when a sudden rush of rebellion swept through her. If she didn't want to go, then she damn well wouldn't. "No, Christian, not tonight. I'm just not up to par. I'm going straight home and getting into bed. But thank you for the offer."

"Okay, Ana. If you change your mind, feel free to call me. I suddenly find my evening free." His words were solicitous yet his tone was cold, even imperious.

"Yes, I will. I apologize for the short notice but this illness just came on suddenly. Have a good night."

The line went dead and she put the phone back in her jacket pocket. Looking up, she felt Blake's eyes on her and she met them.

"What was that all about? I couldn't help but overhear, my apologies, but it didn't sound good. He's not harassing you, is he, Ana?"

She laughed. "_He_ is Christian Grey and he's a bit trying at times. He doesn't like to take no for an answer, so it seems."

"So it seems. Christian Grey… the financier?"

"The same. I don't have a clue what he wants with me anyway. I'm a little out of his league."

"Don't sell yourself short, Ana. Obviously, Mr. Grey doesn't think so. Nor do I. I'm sure he'd be very lucky to have you as a companion for dinner."

"Hmm," is all she said. Shaking off the conversation, she brightened her demeanor and chirped, "The mountain of paperwork has now been conquered. What next?"

He leaned back in his leather swivel chair and stretched his legs. Sitting thusly he practically took up the entire office with his body's length. "Why don't you shove off and maybe really hit the sack early so you'll feel better in the a.m. You look a little peaked."

"Pea-kid?"

"Peaked, as in slightly ill? I'm sorry it took you to practically tell me before I noticed."

"No, I'm fine. I just didn't feel up to going out tonight. I can finish the day. Honestly."

His light eyes seemed to tunnel right through her as he considered her reassurance. "In that case," he said, as he leaned forward and his chair squeaked in protest, "let's get some research done. I've been far too lax with my publisher's deadline. Come here and I'll show you where to begin."

They sat together for the next hour, surfing various academic and historical sites, each one offering a wealth of information. After a few minutes, Ana began to get the hang of what exactly she was searching for and what could be ignored. She also loved sitting so close to Professor Blake once she got over her nervousness: he smelled like she thought a man should, clean with a light musky cologne scent. Just as she was feeling good about their proximity, he rose from his chair.

"I've got a class to teach. You can continue until five, at which time you really should call it a day. I'll come and close up shop when my class ends at 5:15. Just lock the door when you leave."

"Aye, aye, sir," she said, saluting him. "When do you need me back here?"

"Is tomorrow too soon?" he asked smiling.

"Tomorrow I have classes all morning but I'm free in the afternoon. Will that work?"

"That will work fine. Until then." He bowed slightly and grabbing his briefcase, exited the room as Ana watched him go. She decided then and there that if Professor Blake really was interested in her, she'd like to explore that option. Definitely.

Damn, he thought, damn, damn, damn. Twirling his pen in his hand, Christian leaned back in his black leather chair and considered the conversation he'd just had. He'd wanted to get her back into his lair tonight. He was sure he could consummate the relationship, get her over her sexual block, and in so doing, cement his place in her life. For now, anyway. He knew he had competition in that art professor and he wanted to claim her virginity before the other man did. Of course, removing his rival from the picture wouldn't be difficult: professors are not supposed to date, much less sleep with their students. But it might prove somewhat obvious, if complaints came in about him suddenly, as to who exactly was behind them.

Christian preferred to keep his hand invisible, using the considerable heft of his influence to make things happen the way he wanted them to. Attention wasn't something he craved, having enough of it shoved down his throat every day of his life. It was the nature of the beast: if a person is wildly successful at anything, people are always in his face.

He'd built his reputation and fortune from scratch, providentially possessing a superior mind when it came to technology. At twenty, he'd created innovations using the Internet, innovations that radically changed the landscape of multiple industries, and he made his name famous, as well as handsomely lining his pockets. Since then, he'd diversified quite a bit but he continued to develop new software and electronic gadgetry that the discriminating consumer couldn't live without.

He had friends in high places: in government, in the arts, and in the corporate world. Whatever he wanted, he got. The only thing missing in his life, an outsider looking into his window might say, was perhaps love. His answer to that? No such thing.

He'd never confused lust with love and he had more than his share of the former. Women flocked to him, whether it was due to his looks, wealth, or reputation, he couldn't care less. He used them as he saw fit and moved on. He was careful that no one got close enough to meet the real man.

As for friends, there were very few. But every man, even a shark, needed at least one close ally, and Christian had found that friend in David, his former college roommate, who was currently his attorney and financial advisor. David Gatwick was all he needed for close human companionship. Much to Christian's chagrin, David had married two years back and now had considerably less time for him. As a result, Christian wasn't a real fan of his wife, one Kelly Gatwick, née McArthur.

Friends were a liability. He remembered how betrayed his father felt when all of his friends deserted him, one by one, yet all at once, as soon as the indictment was handed down. Christian would never depend on others, on friends, for his contentment. He'd depend on no one but himself.

As for revenge, truthfully he never really planned on pursuing it but found the opportunities continually fell into his lap. He'd always felt that the best revenge was living well.

And he had plenty of reasons to want to pursue revenge, not the least of which was what happened to his father once he began his fall from grace. The incident, as his parents called it, was the number-one reason to exact it. That opportunity, again, had come his way without even trying and it's true what they say: revenge is best served cold. The man who felt that revenge could surely attest to the truth of it.

Just allowing the memory to infiltrate his thoughts was enough to bring on the full force of the trauma and he reared back in his chair as the emotional pain manifested into a physical one and he clutched his gut in response.

Northampton, Massachusetts

March, 2000

He was a near perfect specimen of the human male. At fifteen, his tall frame was filling out, developing the mature contours of the man he'd grow to be. Apart from his unparalleled masculine beauty, he had a superior mind. Some even called him genius. For his peers it was just a matter of when, not if, they were going to exact revenge. After all, teenage years are turbulent enough for anyone without having to compete with a demi-god like him. Yet here all the other boys, all students of the prestigious Northeast prep school where the old moneyed families sent their sons, were continuously confronted with this profoundly unfair rivalry presented by this far superior boy.

Flinging oil on the fire, the boy was also a superb athlete. Every sport in which he demonstrated a flicker of interest, he excelled at beyond all reasonable expectation. The coaches lauded his skills as much as his professors praised his quick wit and the academic energy he brought to his studies. Perhaps the greatest insult of all, though, and the one that pricked the most, was the girls' reaction to this paragon of excellence.

They threw their perfumed selves at him with unheard-of abandon, one and all. Even Taryn Kingston, the hottest and richest of all the girls who attended the sister school to their all-boys institution, even she was not immune to his myriad charms. She would show up at their football games or at the diner in the village where they'd congregate on weekends and, ignoring all others including Alex Mansfield, the well-built football captain, would sashay over to the boy, her coterie of bimbo girlfriends walking a respectful distance behind her… and Taryn would demean herself right there in front of everyone's witness by nearly begging for his attention. The boy would flash her a dazzling smile and she'd fall to putty—silly putty—in his hands.

After nearly three years of suffering through this boy's presence, the other boys made a plan: they called it Operation Friday, for the Friday that school recessed early and found them all at the diner, eating fries and swapping lies. They decided that afternoon as they watched him hold court with all the pretty girls. There was only one thing left for the other boys to do.

_Take him down_.

None of them wanted to get expelled, much less face legal redress—they all came from good families where scandal was unacceptable. No. So that limited their options rather severely. They could either punish him anonymously or they could conjure up something so shameful, the victim himself would strive to keep it quiet. They took a vote, the nine boys in on the scheme, and decided against the former. Like Montresor, Poe's villain in _The Cask of Amontillado_, they had revenge criteria to serve and uphold.

As per Montresor, they must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avengers fail to make themselves felt as such to him who has done the wrong. So he had to know who and why, and they had to get away with it. Thus, it had to be so shameful he would keep it secret. Only one punishment would serve, in that case.

Rape.

Nine boys against one, a gang-bang, to use the common vernacular. The crime was well planned. The dormitory emptied out on any Friday afternoon preceding a long weekend or vacation but they learned the boy wouldn't be leaving until the following day, his parents having to travel across the country to see him. They'd set the trap then, lie in wait for him. When the boy returned to his room, he would be instantly incapacitated, silenced, violated. Photographs would be taken as a security measure.

In the end, five boys out of the original nine participated. Two were called away earlier than expected for the spring break. Two backed out from fear but were severely threatened to keep quiet. The remaining boys executed the attack according to plan. Except for one thing. They didn't count on just how dirty the boy would fight back.

And he did. Only the leader got what he came for. William Montgomery-Pope II was first up and managed penetration as the others held the boy down, but he kept his wits about him despite the extreme violation and remembered he had a knife—a wickedly serrated knife, capable of disembowelment in the right hands. Ready to lunge for it the moment they were distracted, he attained his prize and turned it against them all, viciously slashing whoever and whatever came anywhere near him. Before an hour had passed, they were all bloodied by the knife he'd taken to them. Even the boy was cut up from using it to carve into his attackers.

He also got the camera and tried to shove it up William's rectum. When he was unsuccessful, being too soon pulled off the larger boy by the others, he smashed the offending camera, expending his deep well of rage against the small digital device until fragments were all that remained.

When it was over, there was no way to hide the crime, since the dormitory room was wrecked beyond mere clean-up. Consequently, all of them were summarily expelled from school, even the boy, unfair or not. It was all the blood he spilled, sending two boys to the emergency room for stitches and severe blood loss. Naturally, no charges were filed against him or any of his attackers, appearances being first and foremost in their insulated and privileged community.

William, the leader of the gang of five, remembered one thing so clearly about that night, when many of the other things receded into hazy recall: right before he exited the room, he chanced a glance back at the bloody but unbowed boy, and saw two grey eyes boring into his with undiluted hatred. He knew the only thing he'd accomplished that day, other than truly fucking himself and his friends, was gaining a formidable foe.

They should have known. If they couldn't compete with him in any other capacity, why should a dirty fight be any different?

His assistant's voice coming through the speaker broke into his reverie. "Mr. Grey? Your publicist is on line 3. She insists it's important that she speak to you, something about a date you have scheduled with Senator Johnston's daughter on Saturday? Would you like me to put her through?"

He leaned his head back. Fuck. He'd forgotten all about that commitment. Now that Ana was in the picture—or he wanted her to be—it wouldn't do to have his photo with a beautiful woman splashed across all the gossip pages. Yet he couldn't really make a graceful exit out at this late date. He'd have to see it through. "Yes, Cynthia. Put the call through, please."


	8. Chapter 8

35

35

**A/N: **A quick shout out to all those who took the time to write and let me know their thoughts: my sincere thanks for your time and support. To my guest friend who didn't leave her/his name who wrote about the timeline of flashbacks: yes, you are correct. It is confusing. There's a reason why and it's not my inattention. The two flashbacks, Ana's and Christian's, were supposed to open the story. Each has a date at the beginning and the age of each character is given in the flashback for y'all to do the math. I chickened out after posting it, afraid it would be too dark right out of the gate and no one would want to pursue it further. That's why there may be some confusion.

There is a twelve-year age difference between the two characters (it was thirteen but I changed it). Ana is 23; Christian is 35. Ana was ten when she was molested; Christian was fifteen when he was attacked. There's a reason for the age difference as you can begin to figure out by the flashbacks. There will be more edification coming soon. I should also say that this story will not follow a linear plotline (plotline being sequence of events). It may require closer attention if you're a detail-oriented reader (like I am). I think it may be worth the effort—I hope it will. :D

Two other things: I have yet to figure out how to get my section breaks past FF's filters so sorry about abrupt changes with no segue. And last, I've been badgering my readers on my other FF story so now it's only fair you guys have a turn. Please check out my published novels, Complements and Complements, Book II: A Force of Nature. They are on sale on Amazon, Smashwords, and Nook for 99 cents until the end of July. I'm begging for reviews as well. xoxo

Chapter 8

Her feet pounding the pavement, she was moving as fast as her legs could carry her. Like film reels on fast forward, scenery flew by her eyes, proof she was running at warp speed. Unsure of what exactly was chasing her, instinct told her that whatever it was, it was a malevolent force—probably a monster—and she couldn't allow it to catch her. Seeing a shadowy building up the winding street, she made tracks for a door or window to jump through to escape. Right before she attained it, a police car came screaming around the corner, siren blaring. Thank God! Her relief was palpable for a while, until the obnoxious sound went on and on ceaselessly. _Why won't it stop?_ She clapped her hands over her ears. Unable to bear it any longer, she finally opened her eyes and woke up to the insistent doorbell.

Shaking her head to loosen the cobwebs of sleep, she frowned. _If it's not one insufferable freaking noise to wake me up, it's another_! Staggering to the front door, she glanced at the clock and tried to focus her eyes enough to read the time: 9:12. It can't be.

Shit! She'd already missed part of her first class. Quickening her step, she pulled open the door without checking to see who was on the other side. _Very bright, Ana_. This time, she was okay: a deliveryman dressed in green held a long white box and a tablet for her to sign. Scribbling an illegible signature, she thanked him quickly and closed the door so abruptly, she nearly hit the poor guy's backside, plopped the box down on the dining-room table, and raced into the bathroom to shower and dress. When she finally got to open the box, nestled inside were two dozen vintage pink roses with a card that said he hoped she felt better.

From Christian, naturally.

As she was walking out the door, Kate came bounding up the steps, way too exuberant for this hour of the morning. "Ana! I have to talk to you!"

"Kate, I am so late; I've already missed most of my first class. Can you hold off on whatever you need to tell me and put those flowers in water for me?" I gesture toward the table with my chin. "I have to fly."

"What time will you be home?"

"Around six, I guess," she shouted from halfway down the walkway.

"Come home early! It's crucially important that I speak to you, Ana."

Nodding, she kept on trucking to her car. She didn't want to miss any more class time than she already had.

Arriving on campus by 10:11 she slunk into her class four minutes later, hoping her professor didn't notice how late she was. Due to her frazzled state, she forgot to shut off her cell and, ten minutes in, it started buzzing—loudly—in the middle of the professor's lecture about pointillism, thus compounding her earlier infraction. Damn! If filthy looks could kill, she'd be six feet under in no time.

Presenting herself at Professor Blake's office after her class ended, she found a note saying he cancelled classes and office hours. At the bottom there was an asterisk with the words _ATTN: Ana_, followed by a personal note to her. _Do not bother to work today since I'm not going to be in. I'll see you tomorrow in class and we'll discuss your schedule. GPB._

She had to admit that she was disappointed. She may not want to acknowledge it to even to herself, but she already looked forward to seeing the professor now—very much. He was so much friendlier with her personally than he was in the classroom. Glancing at her watch, she realized if she rushed home, she might yet catch Kate before she left for her afternoon classes so she hurried to her car.

Walking through the front door of their apartment a half hour later, Ana's olfactory sense was assailed by the delicious aroma of chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven. "Mmm, what's the occasion?" she asked as she entered the small kitchen, smiling at an aproned Kate.

"I have good new, tremendous news, really. Sit down, Ana."

Ana complied, sliding one leg onto a barstool. "Okay, sitting. First, where did you sleep last night that had you hurrying home so early this morning? Second… what's up with the cookies and why aren't you getting ready for school? This is Thursday, right?" Sneaking one of the just-out-of-the-oven hot cookies off the plate, she nibbled at it as she waited for Kate's explanation.

Kate's eyes were shining with anticipation. "Okay, first question: I was with Evan last night. He was being mopey because of the answer to the next question. I made the cookies to celebrate and as of now I'm done with this semester. Guess what, Ana? I'm moving to Chicago!"

"Chicago?" Ana stammered out. "What do you mean? When?"

Dramatically raising her arms to defend against a beating, she squeaked out, "Tomorrow."

Ana felt the blood drain from her face. "How? Why?"

"I received the most amazing job offer yesterday. I simply cannot turn it down, Ana. But it requires me to relocate to Chicago immediately so I—"

"What about school? You're just going to walk away from the semester?"

"The company needs the position filled immediately. It was either take it now or lose the job. The man who hired me assured me that I could register next semester at a local university and the company will reimburse me for any financial loss incurred as a result of accepting the position. How could I refuse?"

"Whoa. When did you apply for this job?"

Kate shook her head, her expression puzzled "I didn't. I don't even know exactly how the firm got my name and contact information. Mr. Cliffords said my name and GPA were included on some list of 2014 MBA graduates. Anyway, he contacted me, interviewed me over Skype, and offered me the job on the spot. It's an incredible opportunity so I said yes."

Ana made a diligent effort not to let her friend see how upset this news made her. After all, it was great news for Kate. Ana, though, was devastated to lose her best friend to a different city, especially one so far afield.

"Ana," Kate lightly grasped her shoulders, "I don't want you to panic but I have to ask you something. Okay?"

Ana nodded.

"Did you ransack your room this morning?"

"Ransack my room? What are you talking about?"

Kate gathered her long hair up and twisted it into a knot, pinning it there with a pencil she grabbed off the counter. "Exactly that, Ana. I don't know when it happened but I think we had a break-in. I didn't go into your room until about an hour ago and that's when I noticed it."

"Noticed what exactly?"

"Come on. I'll show you." She took Ana's hand and led her into the hall and down to the bedroom on the right. Flinging open the door, Kate stepped aside so Ana could see into the room… and what confronted her made her nearly choke.

Her room was a hot mess! Disarray was one thing but this, this was not disorder: this was intentional destruction. Every dresser drawer was yanked out and overturned. All the bedding was ripped off the mattress and left in a pile. The mattress itself sat askew on the boxspring foundation. The closet door was gaping open and she could see things piled on the floor. Someone was in here and obviously looking for something. Who and what were the questions that needed answering.

Feeling her trembling legs, Ana staggered over to her chair by the desk. Her paperwork was not spared the search: it was scattered all over, with some on the floor. "Thank God I took my laptop to school with me, Kate. Otherwise, it would probably have been stolen." She put a shaky hand to her forehead.

Kate extended her hand to Ana's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "Can you tell if anything is missing?"

Throwing both hands up into the air, Ana huffed. "How could I possibly tell in this mess? I haven't a clue what he or she could have been searching for… unless it was a case of mistaken identity?"

"That's got to be it. I mean, what do you have that someone would want so much all of a sudden?"

"Nothing." She shook her head in bewilderment. "Nothing at all."

"Ana, maybe you should consider staying somewhere else for a while starting tomorrow—at least until you can find another roommate. My flight leaves in the late afternoon."

"Shit! I can't believe you're leaving… and so soon. What are you going to do about the condo?"

Kate stepped over the mess on the hardwood floor and gingerly perched on the bare mattress. "I'm not going to do anything right away. I'll take a wait-and-see approach. But if you want to stay, you'll probably want to hunt for another roommate soon. I'll pay my share of the maintenance this month and next. Hopefully, you'll have another roommate by then." She paused and scrutinized her friend's face. "Do you want to stay?"

"Where else could I go? Until I finish my degree, I'm stuck here pretty much."

"Should we call the police?"

Ana wasn't sure what to do. "I suppose it's best to have it documented, right? Would you mind calling, Kate? I want to lie down for five minutes—I'm developing a pounding headache."

Seeing Kate's sympathetic expression almost made her lose her composure: whenever she felt on the verge of a breakdown, the smallest kindness could push her over faster than any mean-spirited gesture. "Do you mind if I use your bedroom?"

"Not at all. I'll wake you when the police officers arrive."

When Christian Grey phoned later that night, Ana was actually happy to see his name on the screen. Her headache had only gotten progressively worse, what with the interview with the obnoxious police officers, who acted as if she was wasting their time on such a minor transgression, to the five cookies she'd indulged in without eating real food first. Sugar and stress in large quantities worked in concert to give her an unbearable migraine, forcing her to go to sleep. Four hours later, she'd woken up much improved, though her head was sore from the migraine.

What woke her up was the buzzing of her cell phone and she picked it up on the second ring.

"Hi, Christian.'

"Hello, Ana. How are you this evening? I know you weren't feeling well yesterday."

"Yes, well I feel better now. Earlier today I developed a migraine headache but sleep helped. Thank you for asking."

"I wondered if you were interested in lunch tomorrow, if you're available?"

"Oh. I have school and work tomorrow. I may also have to find a place to stay for the next week, so I probably won't have time for a real lunch."

"Why do you need a place to stay?"

She told him about the break-in and Kate's move. She still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that tomorrow Kate would be gone. It happened so fast—there was no adjustment period for either of them. Ana couldn't even allow herself to dwell on it for a moment lest she start bawling. Wrapped up in her misery, she just caught the end of Christian's question.

"… at your parents' home… or other friends?"

Crossing her fingers she was answering the right question, she said, "I don't want to lean on any of my friends; besides, the few I have locally I haven't known very long. As for my parents, they live out of state, as do all of my family members. I moved to Seattle on my own, just to get away, forge my own path… and because it has good bands." She laughed and heard him laugh with her. "I'm thinking perhaps of solving the problem with a big dog or maybe having an alarm system installed. What do you think?"

"I think," he said, his voice sounding stern through the phone line, "that you should stay with me until the police can investigate the break-in and you can have an alarm system installed. In fact, I'll have my in-house security do the install personally."

Horrified by the idea, Ana rushed to decline. "Oh, no, Christian, I really couldn't. Thank you, though, for your generosity."

"Ana, I insist. It's not safe for you to stay there by yourself after someone broke into your apartment. If the culprit or culprits didn't find what they were looking for, they may very well return. You simply cannot take the chance, my dear."

She knew she'd be on the losing end of any argument with him—he was simply too persuasive— so she'd better change the subject posthaste. "I'll think about it, Christian, thank you. I'm sorry I can't have lunch with you tomorrow. Maybe another day?"

"How about dinner? Then I can help you move your things over to my place."

She had to assume he was joking so she chortled. "Dinner might possibly work for me but I know you like definite answers and I can't give you one right now. So I guess that means I have to decline…"

"I suppose just this once, I'll accept a maybe. Where shall I pick you up?"

"_If_ I can make it, I'll have my car at school so I'll drive to meet you."

"What time do you leave in the morning?"

"Tomorrow? About nine. Why?"

"No reason. Have a good night, Ana. I'm looking forward to tomorrow."

"Good night, Christian."

After she hung up, Ana sat there, staring at the phone in her hand. How did he accomplish that? She had no intention of dating him again, superstar though he was, and with one phone call, he managed to talk her into quite a bit: not only did they have a date but she promised to ruminate on becoming his roomie for a few weeks. She shook her head to shatter the reverie, and, sighing, got up from the bed to go talk to Kate.

One bite of the toasted wheat cereal was enough for Ana to ascertain that it was way past its expiration date. Ick. She walked over to the trash can and spit out the unchewed mouthful in the garbage. She and Kate rarely ate at home so food often went stale before they noticed. Her eyes darted to the retro turquoise clock as she poured a to-go mug of coffee. Eight-thirty. She had a few minutes before she had to leave. The ferocious thunderstorm last night had kept her awake for much of the wee hours and now she felt drained of energy.

Exacerbating her fatigue, she got up at six to bid a teary farewell to her best friend and roommate, a separation that would last for an indeterminate amount of time, maybe forever. At that thought, hot tears bubbled up in her eyes and she blinked them back just as fast so her mascara wouldn't run. Kate had to leave the house this morning at an ungodly hour to get to Evan's before he left for work and retrieve some of her belongings. She also mentioned closing various accounts, paying bills, and buying a new set of luggage. By the time Ana returned from school, assuming she didn't get intimidated by Christian Grey into going to dinner, Kate would be in the air or nearly so, on her way to her new life in the windy city. Fucking Chicago.

Glancing out the leaded-glass window in the small study off the kitchen, her eyes scanned the sky: still ominously dark with thunderclouds. She zipped back to her bedroom for her umbrella and swept her book satchel over her shoulder. She'd dressed nicely today, on the off-chance that she cast caution to the wind and opted for dinner out with the redoubtable Mr. Grey: light grey tailored trousers, a white sheer linen blouse with a black raw silk camisole visible underneath, and black high-heeled ankle boots: appropriate for both school, work, and dinner. She shrugged to herself; at least, she thought so.

The long black sedan sat silently idling directly in front of the entrance to the large brick condo building that housed their apartment. Before the property was purchased and renovated to offer residential space, the building, a late 19th-century clock factory, sat empty and dormant for several years, a victim of benign neglect. A commercial real-estate developer with a keen sense of aesthetics and a desire to redevelop rather than destroy pristine land, bought it at auction at a fire-sale price six years before and proceeded to retrofit and renovate it. It was not only a politically correct endeavor, but also a shrewd business deal—all of the units sold inside of a month's time. One of those buyers was Kate's uncle, Tim Skeeter, who wanted it as an investment only. When his tenant moved out right before his favorite niece began college in the area, he suggested Kate rent the apartment. Two years later, he died in an auto accident— a drunk wrong-way driver T-boned his sports car—leaving the condo to Kate.

A red-brick structure with stone surrounds on the windows, it was five stories tall, with huge arched windows on the top floor and nearly floor -length rectangular ones on every other floor. The architects obviously believed in capturing as much natural light as possible, which made the interior very conducive to high-end residences. Still, adapting the property to modern life proved difficult. For example, the front entrance was extremely close to the road, enabling the horse and buggies of its day to tie up at the curb, which is why the curb was about two feet high. The developer successfully lobbied to utilize the city's easement to allow for a circular drive, thus keeping cars from blocking the rather narrow street. If the city ever decided to widen said street, the owner would have to return the easement for public purposes.

As a result, it was impossible for Ana not to see the car as she turned toward the tenant parking lot—she practically tripped over it. A man, vaguely familiar, jumped out of the driver's seat. "Ms. Steele?"

She turned her head slightly. "Yes?"

"I'm Mr. Grey's driver, Stephen Ames. He sent me to pick you up and drive you to school, Miss."

Instantly she felt the burn of indignation at Grey's presumptuousness. Straightening her back, she hissed. "I told Mr. Grey I would be driving myself to school today. I'm sorry for your inconvenience."

In a soft, very polite tone he continued speaking to her. "Miss, Mr. Grey is concerned about your safety. He'd like you to ride with me today in case anyone is following you."

"Why would anyone be following me, for God's sake? Someone broke into our apartment, probably to steal things." Her initial bolt of anger was beginning to dissipate but she was fast becoming irritated with this man. She tried to remind herself that he was only doing his job.

She halted her progress to the parking lot but moved no closer to the Lexus. She needed to think a moment: what should she do? She could turn down the ride and drive to school but then that snub would surely be the end of her nascent relationship with Christian Grey. But isn't that what she wanted at this point?

If she chose to take the ride, she'd have no choice but to go to dinner with him… unless she took a cab home or hitched a ride with Jose or another friend, providing one was at school when she was ready to leave. Providing she even wanted to go home to an empty apartment. Or, perhaps the best-case scenario would be to flip the table on Mr. Grey and use his car to go to school but ask Blake for a lift home. Wouldn't that be amusing if she used Grey's own machinations against him? Would he care if she stopped seeing him in order to date her professor? After all, they barely knew each other at this point.

Turning back to Stephen, she saw he waited patiently for her decision. "I think, Mr. Ames, that I'd be more comfortable taking my own car."

In a flash, he was beside her. "Come now, Miss Steele. Mr. Grey has only your best interests at heart; he really is quite worried." He took her elbow, gently coaxing her toward the Lexus. "If I have to phone him and tell him I couldn't accomplish the simple mission he tasked me with, what would that say about my competence?"

Nearly gasping at his audacity, she snapped in response, "It would say nothing about you; however, it would speak volumes about me. As for Mr. Grey, if he held my decision against you, I would think he wouldn't be worth working for."

"I assure you that I highly value my employment with Mr. Grey, Miss."

He was propelling her toward the car the whole time and they were now approaching the rear door. She couldn't say he was forcing her exactly but _energetically encouraging_ her was definitely fair.

"Mr. Ames, I feel coerced by you into taking this ride. Is that your intention?"

"Not at all, Miss Steele. I just want to set Mr. Grey's mind at ease and keep you safe; that's all."

She cast suspicious eyes at him, then huffed out her exasperation. "Fine! And, by the way, it's _Ms_. Steele!"

After he opened the door and stepped aside for her to climb in, he bowed very gentlemanly and said, "My apologies, Ms. Steele. My mistake," and softly closed the door behind her.

Christian wondered about last night, if Ana really went home to sleep. He had to beat down the temptation to call his security head and have her discreetly watched. Fortunately for both of them, he didn't. Last week, he'd spent a considerable amount of his precious time mulling over how best to approach the situation with Ana; in a stroke of genius, he came up with the answer and it was so good, it was startling.

Angling his forearm, he glanced at his watch, a Piaget that his mother gave him a year before she threw herself off a bridge. It was a work of art and expensive as hell but he didn't like the watch particularly, preferring the black rubber waterproof one he purchased for himself. Much more practical.

Right now Ana was in his car with Stephen. He could just phone his driver and have him bring her directly to his penthouse right the fuck now. Such a bold move would scare her off, though. Pity. He'd have to proceed cautiously with the girl but just thinking about the possibilities made him as hard as forged steel. He would have her all to himself—and soon.

Four o'clock already? The day flew by, Ana thought. Today's seminar with Professor Blake was riveting—he really was a superb teacher—and when they met afterward, he'd handed her a weekly schedule to look over and either approve or make adjustments. He'd obviously taken the time to look up her class schedule to avoid conflicts so it worked really well for her. Later, in the office, she mentioned Kate leaving suddenly—he'd noticed that she withdrew from his class—and the break-in. Blake had the appropriate response: concern but within a normal range. Not like the overreaction of a certain CEO tycoon. Speak of the devil—and she did mean devil—he had called to find out when to pick her up from work. Despite her reservations about his temperament, Ana had decided to see him tonight. She would give him one more chance to redeem himself in her eyes before she cast him to the four winds.

He was sending the car for her at 5:30. That would allow her a half hour to visit the restroom to freshen up her make-up and brush her hair. Looking at the tall stack of paperwork on Blake's large desk that she hadn't gotten to yet, she dug in. She had an hour to get as much done as possible. Across the desk she was awarded with the most dazzling smile from the professor. God, he was handsome. By five o'clock, she'd made it through a third of the stack but at least the ones she attended to were completely finished. She put the remaining paperwork under a paperweight in the corner of his desk, out of his way.

"Professor, this is the work I didn't get to yet. I'll attack it first thing Monday morning."

"Good. Make sure you don't just attack it, but kill it, too. Paperwork is the bane of my existence, Ana."

Chortling, she gave him her biggest, shiniest smile. "I think I'm beginning to see that. But, don't worry. I'm here to rescue you from the clutches of requests for recommendations and whatever else students torment you with. Just give me some more time…"

"Ah, that does sound comforting. Yes, I'll allow you all the time you need. Meantime, be careful this weekend and make sure you lock up well before you retire. You might want to visit a hardware store, too, and get one of those _Beware of Dog_ signs. Can't hurt to lie to potential trespassers. You might even be able to find one of those barking machines."

"Hmm, there's an idea. And to think I was considering a living barking machine. Thanks, Professor. Have a good weekend."

"Thank you, Ana. And please… call me Geoffrey?"

She blushed and nodded, quickly turning away to exit. As she walked toward the restroom, an image popped into her head of being in bed with him, making impassioned love, and she would start to scream out his name. Only it wasn't his name: she was calling him Professor. She giggled at the absurdity of her imagination.

The fluorescent lights in the university restroom cast a sickly pallor on anyone's complexion, but especially on a pale one, making it difficult to adjust one's make-up. Ana gave it her best shot nonetheless, hoping the lighting didn't cause her to horribly misjudge and leave the room looking like an overly made up tart or, even worse, a tanning bed aficionado. Frowning at her reflection, she realized a linen shirt was not the best choice for a long day. It was wrinkled before she stepped out of the Lexus this morning. Oh, well. Tough, if he doesn't like it. Brushing her hair with extra ferocity when she thought of him, she had to question her sanity about her decision to go out with Christian Grey again. If her feelings were this ambivalent at so early a point in their relationship, shouldn't that be a red flag to discontinue?

On the other hand, if he could inspire such strong feelings so quickly, perhaps further investigation was warranted? And he did get closer than any other man to breaking her sexual block. Maybe she'd let him have another stab at it tonight? She winced at her own choice of language.

No.

She'd already concluded that if he were the one to do it, he'd almost certainly become proprietary—it was evident by his dominating personality—and she was not ready for any commitment at all, especially not with a bulldozing alpha male like him. No. Tonight was dinner and that was all. She'd go home to the empty condo and try not to think about break-ins or absent best friends. Spinning around on her heel and armed with her new resolve, she set off to meet the car at the entrance to the Arts & Humanities building.

The Lexus was right out in front and Stephen was standing next to the car, leaning his hip against the driver's door. When he saw her, his posture immediately straightened to one the military would be proud of. She walked briskly over to the car and he opened her door with a polite nod.

"Ms. Steele."

"Hello, Stephen," she responded politely but coolly, her animosity a residue from their encounter this morning. Afterward, she took a few minutes to ponder just how loyal his driver was to Mr. Grey. Would he have forced her into the car if she absolutely refused? Ultimately she decided she was being paranoid and the man had just been politely persuasive. After all, if something had happened to her, he would have felt responsible if he hadn't convinced her. Not that anything would have happened to her.

As the car smoothly glided away from the curb, she ventured to ask where they were going.

"We'll be picking up Mr. Grey from his office first, Ms. Steele."

Leaning into the cushiony seat, she forced herself to relax and enjoy the ride. She didn't often get to admire the scenery since she was usually the one driving.

Traffic was heavy due to the rush hour so a ten-minute ride yawned into a half hour but eventually the car pulled up to Christian's office building and Stephen used the Bluetooth connection to phone his employer to let him know he was outside.

"Very good," Christian's cultured voice came through the speakers, "is Ms. Steele with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll be down in five minutes. Please put on her preferred music to listen to while she waits."

"Yes, sir."

Thick silence descended over the car. W_hat is he waiting for?_ _Does he want her to ask?_

About ten seconds later, Stephen half turned to speak to her, even though there was a speaker system for him to use. Too impersonal, she guessed. "What kind of music would you like me to hear, Ms. Steele?"

She smiled, deciding to be difficult. "Do you have any _Radiohead_?"

"Of course," he replied easily, surprising the hell out of her. "Any particular CD?"

"No, any one will do." Her fatigue was catching up to her and the luxurious interior of the Lexus was not helping her stay awake. She needed caffeine. Raising her voice over the music, she asked, "I don't suppose you have an espresso machine tucked away somewhere up front?"

"No, I'm sorry, I don't. However, I'll be only too happy to buy you one. There's a coffee bar in the lobby of Mr. Grey's building."

"Is there really? Well, I'll just run in and get one myself, thank you."

"No, Ms. Steele, I insist. I'll be just a minute." He opened his door but before getting out, he asked, "Just an espresso?"

"I'll take a double shot, thank you. May I give you money?"

"No need, Ms. Steele. I'll be right back. Please do not leave the car unattended."

"I assure you I will not."

She was halfway through her strong espresso when she spotted Christian striding up to the car and her heart started thudding in her chest. Stephen leapt out to open his door. He'd been sleeping on the job, Ana thought with a smirk. She did not like Stephen after this morning and she intended to make his life difficult whenever possible. _No_, she castigated herself. That was unkind. The poor guy was just doing his job. So then why was she feeling such hostility toward him? There was something about the man… She'd learned long ago to go with her gut and trust her first impressions. They rarely, if ever, let her down.

When he climbed into the car, the first thing Christian did was look in the cup in her hand.

"Espresso? At this time of day?"

She shrugged. "I didn't get much sleep last night—I was nodding out."

He cast a sharp glance at Stephen and their eyes connected in the rearview mirror. She didn't know what just transpired between them but she also didn't much care. Christian quickly brushed her lips with his and asked, "How are you today, other than tired?"

Smiling, she answered truthfully, "I'm well, thank you. I'm looking forward to dinner with you."

"I've been looking forward to dinner all day today, Ana. It's good to see you again."

She finished the espresso and relaxed into the seat again. "Where are we going?" Eying his beautifully tailored suit and expensive Italian shoes, she added "I'm not dressed for anything too nice…"

"As it happens, the place where we'll be dining this evening has no attire requirements," he said enigmatically, with a small smile.

"Oh?"

He said nothing further, just leaned back into the upholstery of the luxury car and gazed straight ahead through the windshield. Traffic was no lighter now and it took them several minutes just to make it through the next intersection. Fifteen minutes later, when Stephen steered the car into a circular drive, Ana glanced out the window and whipped her head back to him in response to what she saw. "Your place?"

Christian nodded. "My personal chef is rather spectacular. You'll appreciate her efforts, I think."

Ana didn't know how to feel about this turn of events, if she should be furious at his duplicity or accepting of the situation. For now, she'd just go with the flow but she determined that she would not do anything she didn't want to do—or even something she wanted to do but felt was ill-advised.

Dinner was superb, she had to admit, and Christian was as charming as he was the night she first met him. As soon as they arrived at his penthouse, he showed her to his great room, offered her a drink, and then excused himself for a few minutes. When he returned to her company, he was wearing a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved tee shirt—and God, did he look good.

The jeans highlighted his long legs and perfect butt and the shirt stretched tautly across his broad chest. If he was trying to impress her, it was working. She never expected he'd look so damn hot in casual clothes.

His chef, who whimsically called herself Artemis (that _can't _be her real name!), prepared everything from fresh, locally grown ingredients. When Ana asked about her name, she laughingly said it was _apropos _because she hunted for all her produce and other ingredients. The dinner she served them consisted of a salad of mixed baby greens, pasta with early spring vegetables sautéed in black truffle oil, and a French cheese board, served with fruit for dessert, which is how they serve cheese in many European countries.

After they finished eating, Christian led her out to a screened balcony and poured them each a Sambuca. Soft music wafted through speakers recessed inconspicuously into the ceiling. Between the satisfaction of the excellent meal, the liqueur, the melodic notes of Thelonious Monk, and the expanse of twinkling lights spread out at her feet, Ana began to once again feel drowsy, the effects of the espresso worn off. She struggled to keep her eyes open and Christian must have noticed since he reached his hand over and touched her arm.

"I have something to show you." He stood up and extended his hand, "Come."

Ana's thoughts jumbled inside her overloaded brain. _Something to show me?_ _I'll just bet he does_, she thought, and couldn't suppress a giggle—which of course drew his attention immediately and he smiled slyly.

He guided her upstairs and down a long hall to the last door on the left. When he opened it, he stepped aside so she might enter first. She walked over the threshold with some trepidation.

It was a very large bedroom. Huge sidelights flanked a set of French doors, creating a wall of glass, leading to some kind of outdoor space. Once they were both in the sumptuous room, he gestured with his hand for her to explore farther. To the left was the sleeping area, complete with canopied bed and a decadently upholstered chaise. To the right were two doorways, one leading to a spa-like bathroom done in aqua glass tiles and espresso-colored wood furnishings, and the other a walk-in closet with attached dressing room boasting all the _accouterments_ of a high-end home: washer and dryer, shelves and closet bars, ironing board, and steamer. There was no need for a dresser in the bedroom since everything one needed to bathe and dress was integrated in these two rooms. Naturally, the dressing room shared a door with the bathroom so one could move directly between the two.

She looked inquiringly at Christian. "It's a beautiful room. Did you recently redecorate it or something?"

"It was done within the last six months. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just wondering why you wanted to show it to me."

He leaned against the wall, crossing one arm and leaning his chin on his other fist. "Can't you guess?"

She arched her left brow, going for a sardonic expression. "Did you want to make use of this room perchance… with me? Now?"

Heat flashed in his gray eyes. "Oh, I can assure you I'd like nothing better, Ana… but no. I'm showing it to you because it's your new bedroom, at least until you find another roommate and have the alarm system installed."

Taken aback by his audacity, she began to retreat instinctively. "I don't think it's a good idea, Christian. Besides, it's unnecessary."

"Ana, please be reasonable. Someone broke into your apartment and ransacked your room and your room only. That suggests to me that you were specifically targeted. Why else would an ordinary burglar stop there? He'd rip apart the entire apartment."

"Not if he ran out of time. Perhaps Kate came home while he was there and he ran. Or maybe a deliveryman knocked on the door or something else spooked him. Christian, I have no enemies; there's nothing of mine that anyone could want. The idea that someone wants to do me harm is just this side of preposterous."

"To make matters worse," he continued as if she hadn't interjected, "your roommate has moved out, leaving you alone and vulnerable. I'm offering you a place to stay—temporarily—with no strings attached."

When he saw the stubborn set of her jaw and determined expression, he added, "Be reasonable. It's only for a few days."

Her instincts told her to take her leave then and there but the look on his face was so earnest that she relented a little. "I'll think about staying the night, Christian, but that's it. I need to go home in the morning."

"That's some progress, I suppose. Now," he said, sauntering over to where she stood, "about making use of the room? Are you at all interested in that pursuit?"

She laughed softly, recognizing the danger that being in his presence wrought. She was liable to do a lot of things she probably shouldn't. "Hmm. I'm open for discussion, I suppose."

He reached for her hand and they walked down the hall. Ana recognized the next door he opened as belonging to the master bedroom. "Let's sit outside and talk for a while."

This balcony was smaller than the one off the great room, and unscreened. There were two cushioned chairs and a small table. A bottle of brandy and two snifters were on the table, waiting for them. Ever the gentleman, he pulled back the chair for her to sit.

Sipping an excellent brandy, and listening to a soft Brazilian-type of music, she began to truly relax and shrug off the tensions of the long day. Perhaps staying the night would not be such a terrible idea. Sleeping with Christian, however, might truly be one. She decided to stop overthinking the situation and play it by ear.

After a few minutes of quiet, Christian leaned forward. "The last time you were here, you told me about your… what did you call it… block?"

"Yes." She felt her face flush even though she knew it was coming.

"I've been thinking of ways we can break it. Are you interested?"

"I'm listening." She took a large swig of her brandy.

"I think I know exactly what triggered it last time. I believe we can… circumvent that trigger."

"How?"

"I'd rather show you than talk about it. I have these little pills," he held out his hand and there were two tiny, yellow pills in the palm of his hand, "that will relax you." He held up his other hand to arrest her coming protest, the words already perched on her lips. "Hear me out, Ana. These pills will not make you feel high or drugged in any way. They do not impair your faculties; all they do is simply reduce anxiety. You'll be in full possession of your senses; I promise. If you take these and we try it my way, I think we'll be successful. Of course, it's entirely up to you."

She said nothing but made no move to take the pills in his hand. He placed them on the table near her glass and reached his hand over to pat her leg. Before too long, the reassuring pats became sensuous caresses and his hand worked higher up her thigh. When she looked up, she realized he'd moved much closer to her. His lips were inches away from hers and a moment later, she felt them touch hers gently but persuasively.

He whispered in her ear. "Ana, sweetling, take the pills. Trust me."

She felt hypnotized by his voice. Picking up each tiny pill, she put it in her mouth and took a gulp of the brandy, easily washing them down her throat. Once she swallowed, she looked back to him and his eyes shone with approval. He grasped her hand, slowly brought it to his sensuous lips, and kissed the skin. Immediately after, he stood up and pulled her to her feet, his arm snaked around her waist, and he took her into his bedroom, pushing her gently onto the huge bed.

Once they were lying next to each other, he began to kiss her; his tongue warm and tasting of brandy, invaded her mouth and her senses. She could feel herself falling into the moment and began to believe she could break the block tonight, or rather that Christian would succeed in breaking the block.

For a long time, all he did was kiss her. Relaxed, she didn't protest when his hands began to explore. Avoiding touching her intimately, his hands nonetheless started heating her blood… and she knew that he knew the effect he was having on her. After a few minutes, he whispered, his face close to hers.

"I'm going to get undressed and I want you to do the same. I'm afraid if I'm the one to remove your clothes, it might evoke unhappy memories. Okay?"

She nodded, unable to say a word and wishing she had a glass of water. Well, he was up already, right? "Christian, would you terribly mind getting me a glass of water?"

He walked to the other side of the room and returned with a chilled bottle of spring water. A refrigerator in the bedroom? She unscrewed the top and drank half the bottle in one pull. When she looked up, he was completely bare and he had a physique worthy of marble. She tried to tear her eyes away but failed. He saw her looking and smiled but his smile was superficial, never reaching his eyes. "Ana? Take off your clothes." His voice was gentle but so very insistent that she knew he was getting impatient with her procrastination. Was she stalling for time?

She leaned down and removed her boots, then stood up to shimmy out of her pants and peel off her socks. She couldn't bring herself to lose her panties. Crossing her arms, she grasped the hem of her linen blouse and yanked it over her head, losing a button by removing that way. She heard it ping as it hit the hardwood floor. Now she stood in the skimpy black satin thong and camisole. Ana felt him staring at her—she swore she could feel heat bore into her flesh where his eyes were trained. She turned to face him.

"All of it, please. We want to avoid any triggers, Ana."

The pills he fed her must be working their magic because she still felt relaxed and calm, just ambivalent. She pulled off the camisole slowly, knowing he'd be distracted by her naked breasts and wouldn't direct his attention elsewhere right away, giving her the at least the delusion of hiding that part of her a bit longer. She slid down the panties, trying not to sway her hips.

"Good. Now lie down on the bed in your most relaxed position, Ana."

She complied, lying on her right side, facing him. He knelt on the bed, but didn't touch her at all, just lay down opposite her and looked in her eyes. There was a dim lamp glowing in the corner of the vast room, and near the bathroom, a recessed light was on, casting ambient light throughout the room but making it dark enough to lend the illusion of privacy.

"Put your hands on me," he whispered, "anywhere and everywhere."

Ana inhaled deeply and first went for his broad shoulders. They were large yet elegant somehow and she enjoyed the feel of his satiny skin pulled tautly across the pronounced muscles and tendons. Sliding both hands down his powerful arms, she couldn't help but think it was a crying shame that all of this masculine beauty was every day hidden beneath the folds of a suit. Then she touched his narrow hips, quickly moving to his thighs. She studiously avoided the monster in her path. She'd never touched a man there before, obviously, since she'd freeze up long before that could ever occur. Should she try touching now?

"Touch me, Ana. You are going to have to be the one to do everything tonight."

"But I don't know what I'm doing." Her voice held traces of panic.

"There's no instruction manual; you do whatever comes naturally. If I take control, you'll freeze up again, almost certainly. If you do it, we just might get through it together. Try."

Tentatively she extended her forefinger and touched his erection at the tip, then slid her fingertip down the length of it, marveling at the velvety feel of the skin. She glanced at his face and saw that his eyes were closed. Did it feel good to him? Emboldened, she put her entire hand around the girth of it and slid it up and down very gingerly, all the while watching him.

"That feels very nice, sweetheart. I'm going to touch you, too, but I won't go between your legs. Okay?"

She nodded mutely again. It seemed she was fairly unable to speak right now. He kissed her but didn't deepen it, then slid his lips to her throat, which felt indescribably good, so much so that she was unable to swallow a moan.

"Yes, that's an erotic zone for men and women both," he said softly.

Why did he keep talking? Was he trying to keep her concentration fragmented so she couldn't focus on the parts that invited the PTSD?

They spent a long time, probably an hour, just caressing each other. She felt him harden even more under her hands and knew he was probably hurting at this point. As if he could hear her thoughts, he said, "Yes, I think it's time, don't you?" and reached to the nightstand to get a condom. "Would you like to try putting it on or would you prefer me to do it?"

"I'll try." Her hands were shaking as she ripped open the packet. He showed her hot to unfurl it over him and once it was done, he cradled her face in his big hands.

"Ana, I want you to get on top and put me inside you. I don't want to ask questions that will dredge up traumatic memories so I don't know if this will cause you any pain. It might, but if it does, it will be fleeting. Once you put me inside, I'll have to take over for a little while. I want you to know what I'm doing every step of the way. Once we get through it once, it won't be so difficult or so clinical again. Okay?"

She didn't think she could do this but she knew he was right: if he got on top and tried to enter her, she'd almost certainly go catatonic on him. Using her arm to push up to a sitting position, she lifted one leg to straddle him, feeling both shy and brazen at the same time… but she wanted this to happen, very badly. She'd do whatever it would take to accomplish it. Once she was in position, she reached for him.

"Wait. Touch yourself, Ana."

"Why?" she asked, horrified.

"To see if you're wet."

Thank God it was dark enough that he couldn't see her face because she felt it ignite with fire at those last words. This was too much intimacy for two people who were still pretty much strangers to one another. There was nothing anonymous about this coupling at all. But perhaps this was the only way; he had obviously spent some time thinking about how to do it and she had to appreciate his effort. She reached down to do as he asked.

"Are you?"

"Yes," she forced the word out.

"Very good, Ana. We're doing well, sweetheart. Now take hold of me and guide me in."

She did but he felt way too big to fit. She managed to get the tip just barely inside and then stopped. "Is that good enough?"

"Can you go a little deeper? You can use your body to push down instead of pulling me in. Want to try it that way?"

Holding him, she pushed down with her weight and he slipped in a little further. She stopped again.

"Excellent. Ana, I'm going to grasp your hips with both hands, and I'm going to thrust up into you. If you're intact, this is when it will hurt. If we hit any trigger tonight, it will be now. Is there a way you can distract yourself a bit?"

"I'll try… but I'm scared."

"Don't be scared. Everything is in your control. Do you understand, Ana? You have all the power here."

Nodding to acknowledge his words of reassurance, she tried to think about pleasant experiences with men, as Dr. Schneider advised her to do. She felt his hands on her hips, just as he'd warned. Staring at his chiseled features, she tried to recall the moment she first saw him in the hotel and how handsome he looked in his dark suit. He caught her eyes then and held them. His hands were holding her securely but not gripping tightly. They felt loving, not hurtful. With that thought, she felt him move quickly, pulling her down while pushing up into her, and the most horrific stabbing pain shot through her lower body. She shrieked but he held fast to her.

After a moment of agonizing pressure that stretched into eternity, he spoke. "Ana, you're all right, aren't you? Does it still hurt?"

Does it? No, actually, the pain was gone and he was fully seated inside her. He broke through her sexual block! She beamed at him, thrilled she would not die a virgin, and he returned the sentiment, a dazzlingly brilliant smile. Yes, Christian was a conqueror and tonight he'd triumphed over her terror of sex. He deserved a moment to bask.

"Lean down on me, Ana, so I can kiss you."

Now he kissed her deeply, his hands gliding to her breasts, and then fisting in her hair. He was careful not to be too aggressive but he wanted her to focus on feeling, not thinking. He began to move his hips slowly, increasing the pace gradually. Could he make her come? Maybe he was asking too much too soon but it was not in his nature to accept anything less than perfection. If he couldn't do it this way, he was certain he could pull one out of her with his mouth—if she would let him. For now, he'd keep this going.

The satisfaction he received from getting into her body was too big to put into words: he knew with his whole being that he would never let her go. This girl was now his; she belonged to him in every sense of the word. Christian didn't believe in love; his life had shown him that anything beyond parental love was superficial at best, at least for him. He'd never been able to feel a depth of emotion that he could begin to describe as love. Consequently, he refused to call what he felt for Ana love or anything near it. But he knew a few things for certain: one, he'd never felt this way before about any woman. Two, he'd found his mate for life.

After a few minutes he could see she wouldn't come tonight, not through penetrative sex and he didn't want to make her sore, being this was her first time—and he had definitive proof of that now. Increasing his rhythm once again, he reached for her and kissed her with abandon, allowing himself to lose his iron control for a moment before he hit the wall and came explosively.

She was slick with perspiration and he wiped the damp hair from around her face. "Next time it will be much better for you. I wanted you to orgasm but I also didn't want to make you too sore. Right now, you are to put yourself in my hands for a few moments so I can make you feel good, Ana."

"I do feel good. I feel great, actually." She arched her back to stretch.

He lifted her and withdrew from her body, flipping her to her back. "Would you like more water?"

"I still have some in the bottle. I'm okay."

"Close your eyes and don't move, no matter what I do."

"I'm not sure I can do that, Christian."

"You can and you will. I'm not asking, Ana."

"It could… I might have problems with that."

"Was his mouth on you?"

"Yes."

"Look at me." He waited until her eyes traveled up to his. "I will stop if you tell me it's happening but I want to at least try. You need to concentrate on the positive memories you have." It killed him to tell her to think of other men but he wanted so much to give her this experience. Had she ever even had an orgasm? He wanted to ask but thought it advisable to wait until afterward.

She closed her eyes finally and he caressed her, beginning with her shoulders and going south. When he pulled her legs open, he didn't immediately get between them; instead he kept touching her with his hands, going all the way to her feet and staying there for a while, using reflexology to soothe her.

Not a single intelligible word escaped her lips but quite a few moans did, so he knew he was on the right track. He began to leave a trail of small kisses on the inside of her calves, then her thighs. When he reached his target, he just began to kiss her, closed mouth. He felt her body immediately grow tense, the higher up her legs he moved.

So he waited, just kissing and feeling her skin beneath his hands. When he felt the tension start to drain, he made his move. Just his tongue—nothing else, not even his hands were on her anymore. When her mind identified the sensation, she tensed again but relaxed almost instantly. In circles, he moved his tongue ever closer to his destination.

"Ah," she couldn't keep the sounds in. He was making her feel things she'd never felt before and her control was pretty much a relic of the past now. The more she writhed and squirmed, the faster and harder he moved his tongue, never losing his place, never losing his rhythm. Relentlessly pushing her, wringing things out of her, she knew she couldn't take much more… but she also didn't want it to ever end: it felt so good.

Reaching the pinnacle of her pleasure, she screamed and all her muscles contracted at once. He still hadn't stopped and now her legs were trembling out of control and she pulled away from him and he let her. Panting, she said nothing; neither did he. He just petted her leg, reassuring her and she appreciated it. After a minute or so, he worked his way back up to her and lay down beside her. Not a word was yet spoken but Ana felt forever changed, marked even, by this man. Now she understood why she intuited that sleeping with him would be a mistake: they were irrevocably entwined together by this shared experience. She knew it and she believed he knew it. Part of her mourned the lost possibilities yet in equal measure, she reveled in his possession. He was a strong male—the strongest they come—and he wanted her. That in and of itself was a triumph to glory over. She inched closer to him and felt his arm encircle her shoulders; that was the last thing she remembered until she woke the next morning.


	9. Chapter 9

36

36

Chapter 9

Rain furiously pelting the skylight broke through her wall of sleep, dragging her reluctant mind into consciousness. She was alone in Christian's bed. She bolted up, eyes searching for him but he was nowhere to be found. Crawling over to the nightstand, she reached for the small clock to check the time: 10:22. Shit! She never slept this late… but then cool relief sluiced through her when she realized it was Saturday: no work, no school.

Where was Christian? Apparently he wasn't a late riser.

She flipped off the covers to get up. Oops! She was still naked. Had they slept all night together, naked and in each other's arms? That's how she remembered falling asleep. She felt her face warm at the memory_. One would think I wouldn't blush anymore, considering what I did with Christian last night,_ she thought. But she didn't feel different this morning at all, didn't feel changed significantly by her experience last night.

Yet, she _was_ changed in some irrevocable way. And… she was happy, very much so. A rush of strong feelings for Christian swept through her as she considered their evening together.

He'd done it: he'd broken her decade-long sexual catatonia or whatever the technical term for it was. She wondered if it was specifically Christian or if she would have been able to do it with anyone who had the patience to help her. She had been getting progressively better as time passed.

No. It was definitely Christian. He'd invested a lot of time and effort into making it happen. He'd even said he thought he knew exactly what had triggered it last time, and she hadn't even been certain herself.

Now what? Did he expect something in return? Would they remain casual acquaintances or would he expect some kind of commitment? That remained to be seen. Further, what did she expect? Did she now want some kind of committed relationship with him? Before last night, she was fairly certain she couldn't continue to see him. In a few hours' time, everything had altered substantively.

She brushed her teeth, finding an entire drawer full of new toothbrushes in the bathroom vanity, and then helped herself to a hot shower in the incredible slate-lined steam shower room. The stall, if one could call it that, could comfortably fit about six people and had multiple showerheads at every level of the body. There were integrated lights and music, as well as various spray options. While she was washing her hair, Christian came into the room. Through the glass wall of the shower, she watched in astonishment as he directed a remote control bar at the mirror over the vanity and like magic, a television screen appeared from the depths of the mirror. He turned and saw her mouth gaping open, and smiled.

"May I join you, Ana?"

"Yes… of course."

He quickly divested himself of his robe and opening the glass door, stepped in and grinned at her. She couldn't help but notice he appeared happy to see her. He was quite… _upstanding_.

"What do you think?"

Her cheeks burned. _What do I think? About what?_ She didn't answer.

"The shower?" he prompted.

Now she felt like an idiot. "It's amazing. I've never seen a mirror turn into a television before."

"Technology is indeed amazing." He stepped nearer. When he was so close their bodies were almost touching, he stopped. "Would you like assistance in washing those hard to reach areas?"

She laughed and he did too. Was that his polite way of asking if he could touch her… intimately? "That would be most helpful. Thanks, Christian."

"Don't mention it." He reached for the shower gel and, turning her around, began to wash her back. His hands were strong and certain and Ana knew he was touching her in ways that would arouse her. Soaping her skin in small circular motions, he moved from her upper back ever lower, until he was on her backside where he spent extra time, eventually sliding down to her legs. His touch could still possibly freeze her up. After all, one breakthrough did not a cure make. She was sure she'd still have bad times ahead of her.

But then his hand slipped between her thighs, caressing her gently at first and then more enthusiastically… and only good things happened. Her temperature began to rise with the steam in the shower and she wanted to touch him in return. Leaning back into his wide chest, she clutched at his arms and began to rub his skin wherever she could reach: first his arms, then his thighs. When she ran out of skin to explore, she turned around to improve her reach. Eventually she found her way to his huge erection and slid her fingers over the taut skin. A guttural moan was his response, echoing up from the deepest chambers of his chest. Hearing it turned her on even more. She dropped slowly to her knees, all the while keeping her eyes locked on his.

"Show me how, Christian."

He guided himself into her mouth, showing her how to move. After a few moments of nearly choking, instinct took over and she was able to bring him close to a climax before he pulled her up to make love to her. Ana had heard friends complain about hating to give their boyfriends blowjobs but in her first experience she had to say she liked it. Then again, this was Christian Grey and there wasn't much not to like about him… most of the time.

Breakfast on the screened patio consisted of fresh fruit, spinach frittata, toast, mineral water, and coffee. Once they were both ensconced in chairs, cups of coffee in hand, Christian was about to discuss her moving in "for a while" when he changed his mind and decided to instead avoid the subject entirely, aware that it would elicit an argument. Perhaps she might just go along passively? Her next words disabused him of that notion entirely.

"I need to get going soon. I can't believe I slept so late! Thank you; I had a fantastic evening last night, Christian. Words cannot express how much I appreciate all you've done for me. To show my appreciation, I'm going to make dinner for you. Is that all right? Do you think sometime next weekend might be convenient for you?"

He stared as she bit into a strawberry, a rivulet of its juice running down her chin before she caught it with a napkin, and he felt his dick harden into stone. Did Ana realize how fucking sexy she was in all her innocence? She had a body that would drive a pope to sin … and those lips, God, how he wanted those soft lips on him again. Shaking his head slightly to dispel the erotic image, he asked in a hoarse voice, "How about tonight? We can make dinner together."

"That actually sounds like a lot of fun..."

"But…?"

"But I'm going to have to spend the rest of the day having locks put on the apartment door and setting up appointments with alarm companies. Then I'm going to make a trip to the pound and find myself a four-legged friend. I checked and there's no restriction on dogs in the condo bylaws. Oh, and I should also advertise for a new roommate. Do you think _Craig's List_ is safe to use for that kind of thing? Probably not, right?"

"I don't think _Craig's List_ is safe for anything, Ana. Are you sure you won't reconsider your position on this subject?"

"I'm sure, Christian, but I do appreciate your generous offer; I do. It's just… I need to stand on my own two feet. I'm sure you can understand that."

"Of course. More coffee?"

Ana was surprised he gave in so easily—pleasantly surprised. She began to think that maybe, just maybe, she and Christian could maintain some sort of relationship, especially if he continued to be so reasonable.

Physically they were very compatible, more compatible by the minute. In the shower, he'd touched her body all over, nearly sending her into a sexual frenzy—all under the guise of helping to wash her. She'd washed him, too. He'd ventured no further in the shower, however, and Ana did wonder why.

He didn't let her wonder for long. As soon as they stepped out, before she could even finish drying herself off, he maneuvered her facedown onto the teak bench, in the bathroom, and climbed on top of her. He wasn't exactly rough but he was insistent with his intentions. She was afraid he might push the envelope too far and send her spinning into panic, but she was fine. Sore, but fine. He knew that, too, and made it quick, and then brought her to orgasm with his mouth again. He promised the next time they were together would be better for her—he guaranteed it. Christian seemed to know instinctively how far he could push and how rough he could be, and Ana felt confident putting herself in his hands.

That night, as she lay lonely in her bed, in her room, in her empty apartment, she thought of him, of the things he did—and she wanted him all over again. He was well beyond sexy and Ana found the fact that he was a little older only added to his appeal. He was mature and knew his own mind, knew his way around a woman's body, knew how to make her happy. The same qualities that intimidated her also turned her on massively.

She'd let Christian talk her into waiting a bit on a dog. He claimed that fostering a dog was a much better idea: it was less permanent. So she'd signed up at the local humane society to become a foster dog parent. That took some time, though, while they vetted her, checking all of her information and references. Consequently, she was on her own tonight. Earlier, she'd called Kate.

"I miss you!"

"Oh, Ana, I miss you, too. Anything new about the break-in?"

"No. I spent the night at Christian's yesterday."

"You did? You dog! Dating a billionaire powerhouse, are you? Was he good in bed? With those looks, he doesn't have to be, now does he?"

"I'll reserve comment on those abilities for the moment. Now, tell me everything that happened since you left."

Kate told her about her flight, the long-term hotel the company put her up in, where everything was beige, and the fact that tomorrow she had four apartments to look at. When Ana asked specifics about her job, Kate was again evasive. She'd never really told her any details other than it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"I'm going to tell you everything… all in good time. I'm waiting, Ana, 'cause I want to surprise you. I promise: you'll have everything explained to you in good time, lady."

"Okay."

"How is the prof? Sleep with _him_ yet?"

Ana laughed. "Not yet, Kate, but you'll be the first to know."

"I'd better be. So… you miss me, huh?"

"You know I do. The place feels so empty. Christian talked me out of getting a pup for company."

"Why? It's a good idea."

"He advised me to foster one instead—less permanent a commitment. He's probably right. Who knows where I'll be living once I'm finished with school."

"Mmm. So are you two dating now?"

"I have no idea how to characterize our relationship but it's getting kinda serious, I'd say."

"Well, yeah, if you slept with him. I mean, you're not the promiscuous type like I am." She laughed. "Did you two discuss anything about dating other people?"

"We haven't even gotten that far, Kate. Why?"

"Two reasons, really. One, I think you and the hot professor would mix very well together, both looks- and personality-wise. Twould be a shame to pass that up…Two, I saw a photo of our Mr. Grey in the Trib social column. He had some glam blonde on his arm."

Ana didn't like how she felt at Kate's words, like someone kicked her in the stomach. What was that all about? She had no claim on the man. "Who was it, do you know?"

"Some senator's daughter. Actually, I remember now: Senator Beck from Cali. His daughter is an ad agency exec. I don't remember her name. Grey probably knows her through his business dealings. Anyway, I was surprised to see the photograph because I know he's hot for you."

"Did it say if it was recent?"

"Yes, it was some museum fundraiser they attended last week."

"Oh." The rush of feelings she experienced at Kate's news made further conversation difficult but the void between them was deafening in its silence—she had to spit something out.

"Well. He's a free agent… and so am I. If he dares to say anything to me about other men, I'll have ammunition to use against him."

"Great beginning for a relationship, Ana. Maybe you shouldn't bother?"

"What about you and Evan? What's going to happen with that?" She neatly returned the volley back to Kate.

"Evan wanted me to turn down the job but I just couldn't pass on such an opportunity. If it's meant to be, it will work out. He's planning a trip to see me next month. I wanted him to come with this week and help me find a place but he couldn't get the time off. I'm hoping that he'll like the city and put out feelers for a job here. It's not as if he loves his job in Seattle."

"I have to admit that I really like Evan and I hope it works out for you two."

"I have to admit that I really like him, too. He's a sweetie plus he's got a huge dick."

Ana huffed a laugh. "Kate, don't you consider that TMI?"

"Not at all, Ana. Wouldn't you tell me if Christian was waving around a huge pole?"

"No, I wouldn't tell you or anyone, as a matter of fact."

"What kind of friend are you anyway?" She gasps. "So he is then?"

Laughing now, Ana answered, evasive as always, "I'm not saying."

"Fine, fine. So nothing more on the break-in, huh?"

"No, but it's only been two days and tomorrow's Sunday so…"

"Did you have new locks installed yet?"

"Kate, I haven't had time to do anything. I—"

"Ana, I don't like the idea of your being alone in the apartment with the same locks that were compromised. That's unsafe."

"You sound like Christian now. He wanted me to stay with him temporarily."

"You turned him down?"

"Of course I did. How can I stay with him? I barely know him."

"You slept with him, Ana. Isn't that knowing someone enough?"

"Kate, honestly, I'm afraid if I give him too much too soon, he'll consider me his property, if you know what I mean."

"Possessive type, is he?"

"From what I can see from my vantage point, I'd say big time. I can definitely see him going a little crazy in that way or so my intuition tells me."

"Mmm, you're probably right. He gets so much attention from everyone that he's almost got to be an egomaniac by now. Just get new damn locks, Ana. Do it first thing tomorrow or Monday."

"Yes, yes, I will. Promise. So when will I learn more about this mysterious job of yours?"

"Probably next week, if all goes well. Hey, why don't you plan on coming to Chicago during spring break? We'll have a blast."

"Maybe. I think Jose's little sister might be coming to Seattle that week, though. Remember we promised him we'd help out? At least one of us will keep her promise."

"You're right. I should have turned down the most amazing job offer ever so I could be available to Jose's little sister on her visit. Bad Kate."

Ana chuckled. "Okay, point taken. I'm going to say goodnight now, Kate. I have to run down to the pharmacy and get some stuff and I thought I'd make some dinner for poor, lonely, little ole me. I told Christian I was going to make him dinner next weekend and I want to do a dry run."

"Oh, Ana, do yourself a favor and order take-out and just scoop it into dishes. He'll never know and you'll save yourself a heap of work and possibly embarrassment since we both know you're not the best cook in the world."

"I beg to differ. Just for those unkind words, I'm hanging up right now. Bye, Kate."

"Bye, Ana. Love you oodles."

Kate was wrong: she could cook very well; she just never felt inspired enough to do it for Kate. Now, for Christian… She grabbed her keys off the sideboard and her bag off the doorknob, pulling the door firmly behind her and double-checking the locks.

Something went bump in the night. Ana shot up in bed and listened but it was impossible to hear anything over the thunderous rush of blood pulsing through her ears. What woke her up? She tried to calm down by gulping down air but she could still only hear her furious heartbeat in thick silence.

She lay back down. Maybe it was a dream that frightened her. She's had so much worry on her mind that it was sure to trickle through to her subconscious and manifest itself in scary dreams. Allowing her eyelids to drift down, she attempted to fall back asleep.

And then she heard the noise. It sounded like a window opening and closing. Her pulse shot right back into the stratosphere. Looking around for a weapon, any weapon, her eyes were only able to discern shapes in the dark. She'd have to use the lamp: it was the only thing heavy she could think of right away. Quietly reaching for the cord to unplug it, she gathered the lamp in both hands and slid her legs off the bed. Her legs were shaking so violently that she was very unsteady on her feet, and the lamp was rattling in her trembling hands.

Another sound came from the living room. She was so scared she was crying now. _Stop it_! She needed to be able to see, damn it. Now, footsteps, unmistakable footsteps or thuds, more like it. A heavy person. A man. This whole thing was like a nightmare come true. She should have listened to Christian… but why would the intruder return? Was he truly interrupted the first time?

She heard something at her door and tiptoed to stand behind it. She'd have exactly one chance to clobber whoever was on the other side of the paneled door. If she failed, she was dead meat.

But then miraculously the footsteps receded; they moved farther away. There were more sounds but they came from a distance, things being moved, opened, or closed. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of the front door being opened—it creaked and they had never gotten around to addressing the problem—and it closed. Had the intruder left the apartment?

She waited. Sweat was dripping from the back of her neck down along her spine. Her shaking was slowing, too, and she had more control over her body. Stock-still she stood there behind her bedroom door until long minutes passed. Finally, she felt safe enough to explore. She silently tiptoed over to the telephone, picking it up from its cradle. Should she dial 911 or wait? Glancing all around, she saw no shadows, no motion whatsoever but there was stuff on the floor that hadn't been there when she went to bed.

A half hour must have elapsed by the time she made the decision to turn on all the lights in every room, starting with the living room. When the bright recessed lighting flashed on, she gasped in horror at the mess before her.

Everything that had been in drawers was now on the floor. How did he make this much of a mess without her knowing it? Books, keys, remote controls, mail, magazines, coasters, CDs… just everything was spilled haphazardly everywhere.

She swiftly made her way to the open kitchen and her hand hit the switches. Again, the room was flooded with electric light. Nothing looked out of place. Next she went to Kate's bedroom.

Nothing. It was neat as a pin but devoid of all personal touches. The mattress was stripped of Kate's colorful _Kate Spade_ bedding. She burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, for what reason, she wasn't quite sure.

Okay, so someone was in her apartment definitely—it wasn't a bad dream. Should she call the police? Or 911? Or maybe just call Christian? Hurrying back to the living room, she glanced at the clock. Two-thirty a.m. She couldn't possibly call Christian. She opted to call the police so she wouldn't tie up 911 for emergencies. After all, the SOB was gone, at least for now.

Fortunately for Ana, she didn't get the same obnoxious police officers. This time a male and female team showed up to interview her. The man was nice looking and very polite, even considerate, and took down all the information.

"Is there anyplace else where you could spend the night tonight? You might feel safer elsewhere for the time being."

Racking her brain, Ana finally thought of someone whom she could comfortably call at this hour. "Um, yes. I think I'll do that."

"Why don't you make the arrangements and then we'll walk you to your car?"

Nodding her head vigorously, she replied, "Yes. Thank you, Officer," and ducked into her bedroom to grab some clothes and call Jose.

After sleeping until ten-thirty, she got up, showered, dressed, and went looking for Jose.

"When is Lola coming for a visit, Jose?"

"In two weeks. Will you be around?"

"Absolutely. I might sneak in a trip to Chicago the following week to see Kate. She said she has a surprise for us. Do you have any idea as to what it is?"

"Not a clue," he smiled and his caramel eyes glittered with amusement. "Whatever it is, knowing Kate it should be a doozie."

"Yeah, but why does she—"

Her phone buzzing interrupted their conversation. "Oh," she saw it was Christian, "I have to take this call. I'll be just a minute. Hello?" she answered as she walked a distance away, both to allow for her privacy and so she wasn't rude to Jose.

"Ana? I'm calling to—"

"How do you want your coffee?" Jose yelled from the other room

"Excuse me, Christian," she said and answered while holding the phone away so as not to deafen Christian. "Milk and one sugar. Thanks."

"Ana, where are you?"

"I'm at my friend's place."

"I'm sorry if I caught you at an inconvenient time. I merely wanted to check in with you, make sure you had no more unwelcome visitors…"

"Christian, I really hate to admit it but you were right. I should have stayed with you at least another night."

"Why? Did something happen?"

She sighed. "Yes, there was another break-in last night."

"Please tell me you weren't home at the time?"

"I can't tell you that. It happened at two in the morning… the noise woke me up. Whoever it was left not long after I awoke, thank God."

"Why didn't you call me? I would have come right over."

"I didn't want to call you in the middle of the night, Christian. You're not responsible for me and I wouldn't dream of imposing on you to such an extent."

"Ana, I want you to impose on me. That is, I don't consider it an imposition. So what happened?"

"I called the police. Two officers came over and took the report. They suggested I stay somewhere else for the night so I came here to my friend's apartment."

"Oh? I thought you said you don't have many local friends."

"I sort of forgot about Jose. He's a good friend and he didn't mind me sacking out on his sofa. Also, he's always up late because he works nights, so I knew it wouldn't be a big deal."

There was an uncomfortable silence on the other end. _Uh-oh_, she thought, _is he jealous? No, he can't be. We hardly know each other._ But a little voice told her he could be and he definitely was.

His voice sounded strange when he finally did speak. "May I have the address, please? I'm coming to pick you up."

"No, Christian, it's not necessary. I'm going straight to the hardware store to buy a chain lock and schedule a locksmith to come load me up. I think the guy got in through the window so I need to look at them, too. And by the end of the week, I should have a canine companion."

"Ana, I insist… I'll ask my question once again: may I have the address?"

"Christian…" she was at a loss as to how to proceed. His voice sounded like the kind of voice you don't want to mess with… but he was being presumptuous, wasn't he? They'd slept together, yes, but one night does not a commitment make. She wasn't sure what to do or say.

He said nothing and she realized he wasn't going to until she coughed up Jose's address. Fuck it. She kept her voice low and cool. "Fine. I'll text you the address but I'm having coffee with him right now. Can you give me a half hour, please?"

"Yes. Please be outside in front, ready to leave by 12:15."

She looked at the clock: 11:45. Boy, when he says a half hour, he means it, apparently. "Okay."

She goes back into the living room just as Jose is coming in with their mugs of coffee. "Ooh, caffeine. Thanks."

"Who called?"

She shrugged. "The man I'm seeing."

Ana caught his fleeting frown before he managed to hide it. "Not Christian Grey?"

Flushed, she answered him quickly, eager to move the conversation in a different direction. "Actually, yes. He's coming to get me in a half hour."

"Wow. Are you getting serious with him, Ana?"

"I'm not sure what I'm getting with him, Jose. He's a bit… overwhelming."

"I'll bet. The guy is not only richer than fuck but he's also very influential and he likes to throw his weight around, so I hear. I heard a lot of busybody information while I was working that night. You need to be careful with him, Ana. He might be a user."

"Honestly, Jose? I'd rather him be a user than what I suspect he is and that is way too possessive. He seems to have taken a fancy to me and he's kind of relentless."

Jose was staring hard at her as if he was trying to puzzle out something. "Well, just be careful with the man. I hope you won't hold it against me when I say I wasn't all that impressed by him."

_Mmm-hmm_, she thought. Jose's jealous. Ana knew he had a thing for her—at least a little bit—but she only felt friendly affection for him, even though he was very easy on the eyes. Jose just always struck her as best friend material, not a throw-me-on-the-bed-and-ravish-me type. "Perhaps if you got to know him better you might like him more."

"I doubt it," he said grumpily.

"So…" changing the subject was a good idea, "what do you think Kate's surprise is all about?"

Arching his eyebrows he shook his head in an exaggerated fashion, "No idea but knowing that girl, it's gonna be splashy. Don't you think?"

She laughed. "Yes, I'm sure. God, Jose, she's only been gone two days and I feel lost without her. I'm going to have to lean on you a lot more. Are you up to the challenge?"

"Oh, yeah. Bring it on, beautiful."

Before she finished her coffee, the half hour was nearly up. Glancing at her watch, she saw she had six minutes. "I have to run to the bathroom and then get outside so the king doesn't get his nose out of joint."

Three minutes later she kissed and hugged Jose goodbye, promising to call him soon. "Drop by Professor Blake's office any afternoon and you'll probably find me there."

"Will do, Ana. See you soon. You know I love you, right?"

"Yes, ditto. Bye." She pulled his door closed behind her and took the stairs, anxious to be outside on time. Nearly flying down the three flights of steps, her forward momentum propelled her right through the heavy glass doors… and there he was.

He didn't have his driver today: maybe Stephen had off on Sunday? Christian stood leaning against the passenger door of a fire-red Porsche 911. His arms were crossed in a belligerent yet defensive position, telegraphing to Ana that a fight loomed on the horizon. The expression on his face only added to the overall effect: he was glowering.

Wearing a white button-down shirt with faded black jeans and shoes that looked like a cross between bowling shoes and sneakers and probably cost five hundred dollars, he was a man who any woman would swoon over. Ana, however, couldn't appreciate his looks right now. At all. She knew what was coming and the coffee she guzzled began to curdle in her stomach.

"Hi, Christian," she said, reaching up on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek. He didn't even bend down to accommodate her. At nearly 5'7", Ana was not quite petite, yet she was still dwarfed by Christian who had to stand 6'3" by any measure. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he said finally; he stood straight and turned to open the passenger door, then took her elbow and somewhat roughly handed her into the car. Ana was a fairly passive person and generally slow to burn, but he was getting her Irish up now, she had to admit. What the hell was his problem?

He slid into the driver's seat and shifted the car into gear, tearing out into the street after checking his mirror. The car had an engine on steroids: it was immensely powerful and Ana knew if he wanted to, he could get up to speeds of over 100 mph in a few seconds. Hopefully, he wouldn't, at least not on the surface streets.

Eight minutes later, he turned the car into the garage under his apartment building; he had yet to say a word. Ana couldn't stand it a moment longer. "Christian, I don't know why you're so angry but you're being a bit presumptuous taking me to your place without even asking me, don't you think?"

He ignored her entirely: he didn't say anything nor did he cast a glance at her. It was as if he were alone. Her heart began to thump. Was he certifiable? Normal people don't act like this, do they? No one she ever knew did. Ana truly wasn't sure how to handle the situation.

He parked the car, walked around and opened her door and offered his hand to her. Instead, she gripped the roof of the car with both hands and pulled herself out, shooting him a filthy look. She had made up her mind to press the lobby floor on the elevator panel and walk out the freaking front door. He was not allowed to treat her this way.

The elevator arrived almost instantly and Ana pushed the button marked L before he could stop her. He saw it but didn't look her way nor did any reaction register on his face. The anger was gone now; instead, he wore a totally blank expression. When the doors swished open onto the lobby floor, she began to step out. Without even glancing up, his arm shot out and looped around her waist, pulling her back in. She squealed in surprise: she'd expected him to say something or perhaps get out with her, not manhandle her in the elevator. She was about to spew invective at him when three people came rushing over and boarded the elevator. She had to stay where she was and pretend she wasn't a hostage. She closed her eyes, feeling hysteria hovering just a few seconds away. Thankfully, the three got off on the fourteenth floor. Once again, they were alone.

She went to push him off her but found his arm was like an iron band around her and she couldn't move it at all. "Let go of me. Now!"

"Quiet," he spat out in a hushed tone. "We will wait until we are in private before we get into anything, Ana. Decent people do not air their dirty laundry in public, now do they?"

"I have no dirty laundry to air, fuckhead. I just want to get away from you."

He didn't like it that she used profanity. She felt his entire body tense when she let loose the four-letter word. It gave her a twinge of satisfaction. _Good_, she thought, _I'll be sure to let the filthy words fly. He's going to pay for this display, of that I'm sure_.

The elevator arrived at the penthouse with an elegant chime. Recalling the events later on, Ana could remember it as a set of still frames. Christian just about dragged her to his front door. Once inside, he pulled her to his library and closed the double mahogany doors, leaning his body against them so she couldn't escape. She could no longer fight the hysteria and it descended over her. She began weeping and shaking. "Let me out; I want to go home." With each word, her voice got louder until she was screaming.

He looked at her dispassionately. If Ana were pressed to guess at any emotion, she would say it was a look of contempt. His next words chilled her to the bone.

"You, my dear, are already home. Do you understand?"

Her sob caught in her throat and it gagged her; she started choking and coughing. This wasn't really happening; it could not really be happening. He was insane. There was no way she was going to live here.

"Ana, I'm tempted to slap you, so tempted. However, realizing you don't know me very well, I'm trying my best to control my nasty temper. I do recommend, however, that you pull yourself together before we continue. One more word of advice: avoid profanity unless you're prepared for some bruises in the morning. Understand?"

"Bruises?" Her voice was so shrill she barely recognized it. "Are you threatening me with physical violence?"

"And here I thought you were all looks and no brain. Sit down." He gestured to one of the two leather club chairs in the room.

She nearly fell into the chair: ill, she felt truly ill. She now understood why her intuition warned her away from this man from the get-go. He was out of his freaking mind. Did he honestly think he could keep her here? There was no way unless he chained her to the furniture. Not even then. Oh, God, was he planning to chain her to the furniture?

"Christian, what is going on with you? I'm not yours to bully or push around like this. We had one night together, for God's sake. Why are you acting this way?"

He bent down and put his face right in hers. "Was I just a quick lay to you, Ana? Someone to help break your block? Was that it?"

She shook her head frantically. She was really fucking scared of him.

"Well, then, the way I see it, we are now a couple. I made love to you with every intention of doing right by you. You gave me your virginity and I assumed it was not given lightly. I consider myself beholden to you and you to me."

"I see," she said softly, "and where does Senator Beck's daughter fit into all of it? Are you doing right by her, as well? Will we be a threesome?"

His response to her comment was a robust laugh. The fucking bastard laughed!. "Ah, so you saw the society pages. Yes, I was obligated to that engagement and couldn't extricate myself. Believe me, I didn't want to go through with it and didn't want you to see the photo even more. Also, I might remind you it occurred before we consummated our… dedication. I assure you, however, that there will be no more photos of me with other women. I'm now spoken for."

"By me?" she squeaked.

"As I said, you're very quick-witted."

"You know, there's really no need to insult me, Christian. I happen to be quite bright. I didn't go to bed with you lightly; you're right. I gave it a lot of thought. There were other interested parties and I chose you over them. I didn't, however, plan to move in with you. Nor did I intend to enter into a serious relationship right off the bat. Now you've ruined whatever chance we had at a successful one. As of this moment, I never want to see you again."

"That's too bad but see me you shall. Perhaps you'll change your mind in time. What would you like to do today? It's too late to go sailing but we can check out a film or something of that sort. Or would you prefer to hang inside and amuse ourselves some other way?"

"I'm not staying here, Christian. You cannot hold me against my will."

"Oh, but I can… and I shall. Your apartment is not safe. I listened to you, relied on your judgment and allowed you to go home—and what happened? You could have been killed during the night. And then do you call me to come get you? No, you call another man. Another man!" He was practically growling at this point. "How could you? How dare you?"

Her mouth dropped open, literally dropped open. Her father used to tell her if she didn't close her mouth, the flies would swoop right in. Right now, she probably wouldn't even notice if a swarm flew in. "I called an old friend because I didn't want to disturb you. And I wasn't nearly killed; the man… or woman… never came anywhere near me. You're making this out to be much worse than it actually was. Anyway, tell me how any of this is your problem?

"It's my problem because I made it mine. When I made love to you, when I took your virginity, I took on shouldering responsibility for you. I care about you and your safety, Ana. You will stay here until it's safe for you to go home and I'm not taking no for an answer this time, Ana. I simply will not."

"You threatened me with violence. I can never forget that. Never."

"Well, you'll just have to get over it. I'm sure it will happen again. I have an ugly, hair-trigger temper but you'll learn your way around it. Do avoid the four-letter words, though; they make me see red, especially when they're flung directly at me—and by a mere slip of a girl, no less. In return, I'll try my best not to be a fuckhead."

She couldn't even begin to smile at his attempt at levity. She'd seen his true colors now—he was indeed a fuckhead of the worst order—and she wanted no part of him. Tomorrow when she left for school and work, she just wouldn't come back. She'd stay at Jose's or someone else's until she could maybe get another place. Perhaps Kate should list the condo for sale? The problem now was getting through the rest of the day and night. If he tried to touch her, she'd lock herself in the bathroom.

She became quiet then, hoping he might just leave her alone. But, no: he dragged the other chair right next to hers, too close for comfort. She inched away to the opposite side of the chair, trying to put distance between them without him noticing but he moved right along with her.

"Now, that we understand one another, what would you like to do with the rest of the weekend?" His voice was sultry; gone was the angry brute of a few minutes ago.

She didn't answer. If he could ignore her so thoroughly, she could do the same.

"Ana? If you don't respond in ten seconds, I'm going to toss you over my shoulder and carry you to my room where I will proceed to help myself to your lovely body. What shall it be?"

"I do not want to do anything with you." She enunciated every word slowly and clearly, as if speaking to an imbecile. "Do you understand or do you find simple English challenging?"

His eyes blazed with anger but he managed to wrest control of it. Ana expected one of two things might happen when she said that: either he'd haul out and slap her as he threatened to do before, or he'd laugh at her. Either way, it didn't matter. She hated his guts as much as if he'd beaten her. What he did now was totally irrelevant.

Instead, he stood up and walked to a liquor cabinet, removing two cut crystal glasses and a bottle of scotch. He returned to her, poured two fingers in each glass and handed her one. She shook her head.

"Drink it, Ana. It will calm you. We're both upset and said things we didn't mean. Let's take it down a few notches and try again."

"I wasn't upset until you kidnapped me, insulted me, and then threatened me with violence. At this point, Christian, I cannot calm down. All I want is out."

Reaching for her hand, he began to say something but she ripped her hand away from him. She couldn't bear for him to touch her at all. Anger flashed across his face but then it calmed into an impassive look once again. "Give me your hand, Ana. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Just say what you will but please do not touch me. Never touch me again."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Ana, truly. I was just so furious that I couldn't stop myself from giving vent to it. Do you have any idea how worried I was last night when I knew you were home alone? Then when I called and you told me what happened, I felt absolutely helpless to learn that I wasn't there to protect you. Knowing you called another man was oil on the fire: Ana, I'm a very jealous lover… and I'm beginning to have strong feelings for you. I… I'm sorry I frightened you and very regretful that I said the words I said. Could you ever forgive me? Ana?"

She replied out of a knee-jerk reaction, before she even gave any thought to his plea. "No. I cannot and will not ever forgive you. As of now, we are done, Christian."

His eyes became hard again. "I cannot and will not accept that answer, Ana. If necessary, I will keep you here in this room until you change your mind." With that he stood up and stormed out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts and fears.

An hour went by, then two. He never returned. She had been pacing the room for the last forty-five minutes, giving sway to her fury with him. Shortly after he'd slammed the door shut, she turned the handle, confirming her suspicion that she was locked in. The windows were long and beautiful but there was no balcony in this room and they were fairly high up, so no escape route existed there, none that she could survive anyway.

What were her options? She could pretend to forgive him and disappear tomorrow. That seemed to be her best bet. What she said to him was stupid and she could kick herself now, about never being able to forgive him. Now, he'd probably feel as if he had no choice but to keep her here. Now she needed to try to convince him otherwise. In the meantime, a distraction would help her avoid going crazy in this room. She scanned the library shelves, looking for a book that might capture her interest but finding few. Most of the titles had to do with power and management and corporate success. Big surprise there. There was very little fiction and what did exist was mainly focused on various wars. A torturously tedious hour later, she finally heard him outside the door and watched with trepidation as the handle slowly moved from right to left.

Right at this moment he wanted to kick himself and viciously hard. Allowing his hot temper to get the best of him put him in this tenuous position now. He'd shown Ana a part of his temperament she should not have seen, at least not until he was one hundred percent certain of her fealty. Now what? Tomorrow she'd leave for school and work and he'd never see her again.

He had two options in front of him: the first involved drugging her insensible and keeping her a virtual prisoner until she understood the new order of things. The second was to do everything in his power to make it up to her tonight and let her go in the morning. Even if she didn't come back, he knew where to find her. Though he much preferred the first option because it was more of a sure thing, he knew the second one was the saner approach. Plus, he didn't quite want to do such a thing to his innocent young woman—Ana needed to be led gently into her future, not dragged kicking and screaming behind him.

Waiting almost three hours until he calmed down enough to do what was necessary, he took five deep, cleansing breaths, rolled his neck and shoulders to release tension, and headed back to the library. Perhaps after enjoying her own company for the past few hours, she was more malleable now. He unlocked the door and swiftly went in before he changed his mind, for he knew up until the last moment, it was a distinct possibility.

She was curled up on the small leather sofa. He walked over to her, then dropped to his knees in front of where she sat and slowly reached for her hand. Her eyes were wide and though she tried to put on a brave front, he could readily see the apprehension welling up in the blue depths.

"Ana?"

She snatched back her hand—not a good sign.

"Ana, I know you're upset with me. _I'm_ upset with me, but let's try to move past it, please? I know I was rude to you, more than rude, but it was all coming from a place of concern for you. I like to be in complete control—control is my lifeblood. When I feel it slip, even a little bit, I go off the rails. I'm truly sorry you had to witness it. Can we at least look at the positive side, in that you've seen me at my worst? Can we get past this episode?"

He watched as she steeled herself, squaring her shoulders, inhaling deeply, and plastering the fakest smile on her face; she was getting ready to bullshit him and he knew it.

Ana didn't know he could see right through her so she kept on with the program. She summoned her theatre muse and began. "Of course we can get past it, Christian. I've been thinking these past few hours. Perhaps I overreacted. I apologize, too. I know you were concerned about me. It's fine."

Why the fuck did she have to play him? She was just pushing him to option A and he didn't want to go there. Once he committed to that tack, there was no going back. Yet he could see the artifice in her face: she was pathetically easy to read and he felt his anger sparking again, deep in his gut. Biting back a snarky retort, he tried again.

"Come, sweetheart. You must be hungry. Let's go get something to eat and relax a bit. I sent Stephen to your condo to get some of your clothes—"

"What?"

"So you could get dressed in the morning. You do plan to go to school?"

"Oh. Yes, of course. I have work after school so I'll be gone all day. Did you expect me to return here tomorrow night?"

He eyed her quietly, saying nothing. It was a well-known technique to unnerve even the most confident or placid of personalities. She fidgeted yet remained quiet, waiting for his response. Impressive.

"I would like you to return tomorrow evening; however, I don't expect it."

She said nothing but cast her eyes down. Unconsciously, she didn't want him to see her eyes when she lied.

"Um, well, let's see how it goes."

"Yes, let's. Come, now. We'll have a late lunch and perhaps watch a film. It's too late to do much of anything else. Besides, the weather is turning to rain now."

He led her into the dining room where the table was already set for two. A fortyish woman dressed in back came out to serve the food and smiled at Ana.

"Mary, this is my friend, Ana. Ana, Mary is my house guardian, if you will. Mary takes care of everything involved in running my household."

"It's very nice to meet you, Mary."

"Likewise. I'll be bringing out the wine and some bread, Mr. Grey."

"Very good. Thank you, Mary."

The woman nodded.

Every time Christian tried to start up a conversation, Ana would reply with monosyllabic answers. Finally, he gave up and the two of them dined in silence. He did keep their glasses filled, hoping enough wine might help relax her but it was a relief when the meal ended.

"Come. Let's go into the media room and watch a film. Like Hitchcock?"

She smiled! He couldn't believe he was actually gifted with a smile. He led her to the media room—she hadn't seen it yet—and he told her to sit anywhere while he cued up the film.

"_Rear Window_, _Vertigo_, or _Dial M for Murder_?"

She shivered—visibly. "Um, how about _Rear Window_?"

"I have the whole library. Would you prefer one of the others? _The Man Who Knew Too Much_, perhaps?"

"Any one is fine. You choose."

He selected her first choice of _Rear Window_ and went inside, returning with some drinks and offered her one.

"What is it?"

"Port. Do you like it?"

She took a sip. "Mmm, yes. It's good."

He picked up a remote control and the overheads dimmed as the screen lit up. When the room was dark and the movie beginning, he slid his arm around her shoulders. She stiffened but she let it stay there.

The movie turned out to be a good choice. During the suspenseful parts, she actually hid her face in his shoulder. He took the opportunity to hold her tighter and made sure she finished her drink, hoping she'd feel warmer toward him when she was done. After the film was over, he turned up the lights.

"What would you like to do now, Ana?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. What would you like to do?"

He grinned wickedly. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Blushing, she cast her eyes down. "Perhaps not."

He took her hand and they left the media room, and he led her upstairs to his bedroom. She stopped at the door.

"No." It was all she said, just one word but it meant quite a bit and he knew it.

"Would you like to go to your own room then?"

"I suppose. I'm not going to sleep at six-thirty but I'm also not doing anything with you."

"I was merely thinking we would sit on the balcony and talk, Ana. I had no designs on you."

She knew he was lying but she allowed him that small prevarication. "Let's go have our little chat on the screened terrace. I'd feel more comfortable there, I think."

He nodded but his eyes darkened with what looked like anger from her position. Turning around, he snatched her hand and they went downstairs, going straight to the terrace. Mary soon appeared with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of white sangria.

"I never even heard of white sangria," she said as he poured the wine into the stemware.

"Mary usually makes it in the summertime. Perhaps she's longing for summer now so she made it to evoke the mood. It's very good; instead of the usual fruit in sangria, she puts in melon and peach with a crisp Chardonnay. Try it."

Sipping slightly, Ana smiled. "It's really good. I could drink far too much of it without even realizing…"

His grin was downright malevolent. "Please feel free."

For a few minutes neither said anything, just sat and sipped the drinks, listening to the soft strains of music piping outside through the speakers. After about a quarter of an hour, Christian cleared his throat.

"Do you think we can discuss what happened before like mature adults and somehow move beyond it, Ana?"

Placing her glass down on the side table, she angled her body toward him, marshaling her resources like a small prey attempting to look bigger and meaner in the face of a large predator. "We can discuss it, certainly."

"What you didn't say echoes much louder than what you did, Ana. Am I to infer that no matter what I do in penance, we will not get past this afternoon's incident?"

"No, I didn't say that at all, Christian. I am trying here."

"Let's move on. Tell me about your friend… what's his name? Jose?"

"What about him?"

Defensive and wary, both, Christian thought. He might as well give it up now for she wasn't going to play nice. "I was just trying to make conversation, Ana. I don't really care anything about him. Look, you're obviously not in a place where you're willing to forgive my transgressions so I'll leave you to your own device. If you're adamant about not staying here, you are free to go. I won't stop you, Ana. I hope you realize at some point in the near future that I acted with your best interests at heart and not my own… and I urge you to be careful in light of the two break-in incidents."

He rose from his chair. "If there's anything else you need, please ask Mary. Your clothing is now in the bedroom I showed you. If you choose to leave, you might want to take those with you. Good day."

After he left the terrace, Ana remained in her seat, thinking. Should she leave? He did act insanely but it may very well have been because he was worried about her. Why else would he care one way or the other?

Yet she couldn't tolerate that kind of behavior from anyone, even absurdly wealthy and powerful, handsome men. The smart thing to do would be to just get her things and march right out of here, go back to Jose's and try to find a new place to live. Kate could list the condo for sale.

At the thought of not living in the condo again, Ana grew sad. She absolutely loved living there… and what other place could she afford on her meager salary and student loan? She couldn't really stay at Jose's for any protracted length of time… plus his little sister would be coming to visit in a few weeks.

Her other option would be to stay here and try to repair the damage he did to their relationship, if she could even call it that. Perhaps she could even look at it selfishly, patching things up so she had a safe place to stay.

Ultimately, she decided to stay the night and see how things went. Tomorrow she'd decide what to do about the future. Reaching for her glass, she drained the remaining wine and stood up, a bit unsteady on her feet, and made her way into the guest room he'd given her.

Christian heard her go into the room. From the security office, he could see when any rooms were entered or exited. The entire apartment was wired for sound and camera surveillance—only the bathrooms and sleeping areas of the bedrooms were out of camera range—one could never be too careful, especially when obscenely wealthy. There were always people who coveted… that was one of the sure things in life.

Of course, he could always swivel the camera heads toward the bed if he were so inclined. As yet, he hadn't felt the need but with Ana… it might be fun. He'd given her quite a bit to drink so she should be feeling no pain right about now. Was she ready to be more reasonable with him?

Seven-fifteen. She hadn't gone to bed this early since she was a small child. On the heels of that thought, she decided to call her parents and let them know what was going on with her. She had their home number programmed into her phone but not their cell numbers—that was dumb. She tried the home number. It rang and rang; finally the voice mail picked up.

"Mom? Dad? It's Ana. If you need to reach me, you'll have to do so on my cell phone. I'm not staying at the condo right now because of a break-in. Don't worry; I'm fine. Call me back when you have a minute. Love you both."

Where were they? Probably out seeing a movie or something fun. After twenty-four years of marriage, they still loved each other and wanted to be together. Amazing. Her grandfather never liked her father much—he wasn't rich or good enough for his daughter but in time he came around. And he himself came from humble beginnings. As his only grandchild, Ana was the apple of his eye, and she knew if she really needed money for a new place to live, she could always turn to her grandfather. She just hated to do it. Her mother told her he was losing a lot of money from poor investments. Even though he was still wealthy, she didn't want to impose on him. She'd find a way… even if she had to make friends with the devil again. And she had no doubt anymore: Christian Grey was a devil of the worst kind, the kind that was beautiful on the outside but hideous underneath.

The devil was at that moment trying to decide whether or not to intrude upon Ana's solitude. Sometimes absence makes the heart grow fonder. Would it, in his case? Or did she need a little push to help? The factor that finally decided the issue was his own desire: he wanted to fuck her again, in the worst way. He made his way to her room quietly.

Hearing no sounds from within, he knocked gently. No answer. He tried again, a little harder. Nothing. Reaching for the handle, he turned the bronze lever very slowly and opened the door.

The room was dim with only an accent lamp lit in the corner. She was lying on the bed, fully clothed and sound asleep. Her body looked artfully arranged, as if she wanted to look beautiful in repose—she did.

He stepped over to the bed and touched her face. She didn't wake. He walked around to the other side of the bed and lay down next to her. She shifted slightly at the movement but then fell still again. He inched his body closer to hers and reached for her, pulling her toward him. In her sleep she went willingly and he felt his chest tighten but did not recognize the emotion. He began to kiss her neck and she moaned. Emboldened he unbuttoned her shirt and trailed his lips down to her chest. He pushed the bra down, exposing her breasts. When his mouth closed over one, she opened her eyes. He slightly pulled back and looked brazenly into them. What did he see? Surprise? Confusion?

But she didn't pull away and so he began again, trying to heat her body so she wouldn't turn him away. It didn't take much: Ana was a healthy young woman who'd been deprived for far too long and physically she responded easily, even when mentally she didn't care to. After a few minutes of his kisses and caresses, he didn't need to be slow and gentle anymore: she was all in.

Her fingers were in his hair, twisting and pulling it. Her response gave him license to allow his urgency free rein: he tore off her shirt and pushed up her skirt. She wore thigh high black tights underneath and they were nearly as sexy as those held by garters. He left them on but slid off her panties. He desperately didn't want to stop to get a condom out of his jeans but he knew he had to—the last thing either of them needed was an unwanted pregnancy. And that's when the idea popped into his head, a way to control her easily. He'd have to give it more thought. In the meantime, he reached for the foil packet.


	10. Chapter 10

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A/N: As my friend InsubFreak mentions in her review, in real life we'd all hate this CG. Of course. But if you are one of those readers who find yourself attracted to these dark literary characters, I'm here to tell you it's okay. As long as you confine this guilty pleasure to fiction, it's all good. Feel free to enjoy his evil ways. ;D

Chapter 10

Lost in thought, Ana almost zipped right through the red light, slamming her foot on the brake a foot shy of the intersection. Everything she'd hurriedly tossed on the passenger seat went sliding off: her satchel containing all her books and papers, her make-up kit, and her iPod. Damn, now her abstract for her research paper on Etruscan pottery was all over the floor of her car.

Straightening her back, she sipped her coffee hoping caffeine would sharpen her focus on the road. Christian's housekeeper, or whatever Mary was, insisted on putting the coffee in a spill-proof travel mug and now she was profoundly grateful that she didn't have coffee splashed all over the cream-colored interior of her sweet new car. She could get used to having Mary around. Ana had insisted that Stephen drive her to Jose's apartment complex where her car had been left, rather than take her directly to school.

She knew she was trying to keep her thoughts away from where they'd have to dwell sooner or later; she didn't want to think about what she so desperately _had_ to think about: namely one Christian Grey. Ana honestly couldn't seem to be objective about him. Yes, he was a monster in some ways but she was obscenely attracted to him. If they could stay in bed all the time, it would be one fine relationship. But they couldn't and out of bed, he was insufferable and even intolerable at times.

What he did yesterday was unforgivable. Wasn't it? He brought her to his home against her will, threatened her, held her captive, and insulted her. He claimed it all came from a good place: e.g. his worry for her safety. Okay, even if she accepted that as being true, it still didn't give him permission to do whatever the hell he wanted.

Afterward, though, he was kind and gentle… and perhaps most importantly, reasonable. When he left her alone after their movie, she was disappointed to lose his company. She'd fallen asleep, feeling sorry for herself, and then she awoke to find him kissing her. She knew—knew with every fiber of her being—she should have shoved him off, even kicked him, but instead she closed her eyes and inclined closer to him. He made her forget everything else when he was touching and kissing her; all she could focus on was his hard, chiseled body and her own pleasure.

When they were finished, he slept in the room with her, gathering her in his arms. He whispered, his lips close to her ear, that he'd endured sleepless hours the night before, worrying about her all alone in the apartment, so tonight he wanted her in his arms so they both could feel warm and safe. His words almost melted the ice mass in her chest and she chose to remain within his iron-strong arms because she did feel very protected there. They both slept soundly for they woke up in almost the same position they'd started in nine hours earlier.

Christian got up first and headed into his room to shower and dress, leaving her alone to do the same. Stephen had brought a huge suitcase of her clothing so she dressed for the day easily and left the suitcase in the bedroom, stuffing as much of her clothes into her backpack as she could fit. She just wasn't sure if she was ever coming back but the odds were pretty good she wouldn't.

Sitting through her morning class in a mental fog, she found herself unable to comprehend the lecture or even focus her eyes on the art slides. When she presented herself to Blake's office at ten-thirty, she was just starting to wake up. Fortunately, the professor was already there and he had two huge cups of coffee waiting, handing her one as she walked in.

"Well, you look like you need a caffeine infusion—glad I picked it up."

"Oh, a latte! Thanks, Pro—"

"Geoffrey, remember?" he interrupted.

She smiled. "Geoffrey. Thanks so much."

"Rough weekend?"

Closing her eyes, she took a long draught of the delicious coffee. "Mmm, yes. Another break-in. Then Christian went berserk on me and … but you don't want to hear that much."

Those odd light eyes of his flared with some emotion at the mention of Christian's name. Anger? "Ana, sit down, please."

Obediently, she sat and looked up at him expectantly.

"Ana, you must not let that man intimidate you; do you understand? He has no claim on you and you certainly don't need someone like him throwing his weight around in your life. What exactly did he do?"

Trying to laugh it off, she nodded. "He was upset that I didn't stay with him and then there was another break-in—while I was sleeping. It happened at two a.m. so I called my friend Jose, knowing he'd probably still be up at that hour. When Christian called me the next morning to check up on me, I told him what happened and he got upset. He got further upset because I didn't call him for help."

"Allow me to guess: he got even further upset because you specifically called Jose and not, say, a female friend? Am I warm?"

She nodded bashfully.

"I know I'm asking personal questions… and you certainly don't have to answer them but I'm motivated by concern for your welfare so I'll continue. Have you made any commitment to him?"

Furiously reddening, she shook her head. "Not to my mind but he seems to think so… I'm not comfortable discussing the particulars with you." Her eyes were riveted on the floor, her shoes, the legs of the desk—anything but his face.

"Ana, I'm familiar with that type of man: jealous, possessive in the extreme… and what exacerbates your situation, is that he also has unlimited wealth and substantial influence. He probably thinks he's just one miniscule notch below God and acts accordingly. You, my dear, need to separate from him before he begins to consider you among his holdings."

Slouching in her chair, her legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles, Ana frowned. "I'm afraid it's too late—he already does."

He merely looked at her, his face impassive. Ana knew he was too courteous to delve deeper into the matter so it was up to her to redirect the conversation. She tried to keep her voice light, her words dismissive when she stated, "It's complicated, Pro… Geoffrey."

Inhaling deeply, he banged his hands on the desk to punctuate. "Okay. Let's put this subject aside for now; we can always revisit it later should you wish. Let's get to work."

The next time she looked up, it was four-thirty. Blake had sent out for soup and sandwiches earlier and they worked right through lunch. He was trying to catch up all his correspondence before spring break when he left for Greece and Italy, lucky professor. Feeling rueful because she really had no place to go, she kept plugging away at the piles of paper.

"Don't you want to go home?"

Snapping out of her reverie, she straightened her posture. "Uh, yeah, home. Yes, of course I do."

"Somehow I get the feeling you're not eager to go home."

"No, I'm kind of creeped out by the whole break-in thing."

"Will you stay somewhere else?"

"Probably. I don't think I'm ready to go home yet. I stayed one night with my friend Jose and one night with Christian. I'm not actually sure about tonight."

His finger was tapping his lips thoughtfully. "Tell you what. Though I'd love to offer you my own guest bedroom, we could both wind up in trouble that way. But I do have a place where you might safely stay for a few days. Hang on," he held up his index finger as he reached for his cell phone.

"Hello, Maeve." He listened for a moment and then laughed. "Yes, well, it's no different this time, I'm afraid. I do need a favor."

Ana watched his facial expressions flash by: whomever he was speaking to was someone he liked… a lot. He looked happy to be speaking with her. Was she a significant other? Ana couldn't help the bolt of jealousy that zigzagged through her, though she had no right whatsoever to the feeling. But rational or not, she was liking her professor a little too much these days, and especially when he was thrown into sharp contrast with a certain power-wielding egomaniac named Christian Grey.

"Yes. I have a student," he looked at Ana and winked, "a charming student who is in dire need of a place to stay for a few days. Can you pitch in? She's with me right now. Yes, yes, yes. Okay. Thanks, darling; I owe you one."

After he disconnected, he gathered some papers and shuffled them into his leather messenger bag. Standing up, he said, "Come with me, Ana. We'll leave together. Did you drive today?"

She nodded.

"Okay, then we'll get my car first, drive to yours and then you'll follow me."

"Where are you taking me?"

He smiled mischievously. "A place where Mr. Grey cannot so easily find you. Come."

Where the fuck was she? The tail he put on her immediately texted him the address when she didn't emerge for an hour. It was possible she was just visiting a friend but what was troubling him most was that she arrived there by following behind that damn professor's Bentley and they went into the house together. Neither had come out!

Where did he lead her? And what was a junior college professor doing driving a damn Bentley anyway? Was he selling drugs on the side? College professors generally make… what? Fifty thousand for the first few years? The ones who score the tenured positions at the top schools can make a decent living in the moderate six figure range but he highly doubted this Blake fellow was earning much more than seventy grand. Not enough to buy a Lexus, never mind a Bentley.

He went into his private restroom and splashed some cold water on his face but it didn't help cool him down. Stalking over to the large window behind his desk, he crossed his arms and stared out at all the little people scurrying around so busily on the streets below. Whose home was she visiting and why? The not knowing was driving him crazy. He loosened his tie, taking deep breaths in a desperate struggle for calm—he could not afford to lose his temper in the office.

The phone chimed and his executive assistant's voice echoed around the large office. "Mr. Grey? I have Mr. Berlusconi on the line."

"Yes, yes, the Maserati delivery. Tell him I'm in a meeting and take down all pertinent information. Thank you." He eased back down into his chair, calmer now, and called Stephen on his private line.

"Yes, Mr. Grey?" Stephen always answered on the first ring, a loyal employee who Christian knew he could count on in any circumstance, even those that fell short of legal boundaries.

"I'm leaving in about twenty minutes." He checked his watch. "It's six now. Have the car out front by six-fifteen. I'll be out shortly thereafter."

"Yes, sir."

"And Stephen, we'll be taking a detour on the way home."

"That's fine, sir."

He disconnected without saying goodbye, as he did with all of his calls. Time was money and his employees were used to his brusque ways. Stephen would drive him past this home that currently housed Ana to assess the situation. He couldn't make his next move without more information. Rubbing his eyes until they stopped burning, he began to straighten up the glass desk, though he generally preferred to work in organized chaos. When he was finished, he called his assistant to let her know he was leaving for the day, slunk into his suit jacket, grabbed his briefcase, and quickly left the office via his private elevator.

The home was absolutely beautiful. From the exterior, it looked like a relatively small and modest town house, its architecture not terribly impressive but upon entering, it was awe-inspiring. The entire back of the house was a two-story wall of glass, opening the vista of the room to Puget Sound. It was deceivingly large, as well, with soaring twenty-foot ceilings on the first floor. White pickled hardwoods met white walls and the furnishings were varying shades of black and grey. The only color in the great room came from the fresh flowers in glass vases that graced every glass table in the place.

A few minutes earlier, a smiling woman with kind eyes, probably in her sixties, answered the door and showed them inside. Now they heard heels clicking on the hardwoods approaching them and a dark-haired woman with bright blue eyes came striding into the room.

"Geoff! My God, but it's good to see you," she ran over to Blake and nearly jumped into his arms. Ana stood by, uncomfortable for multiple reasons.

Blake grinned from ear to ear, his eyes glowing with delight. "It's great to see you, too, Moby. You're looking happy and well, I must say."

"Yes, life has been treating me well." She looked over to Ana. "So… will you introduce us or leave us both guessing?"

"Of course. Maeve, this is Ana Steele, my favorite graduate student of the semester. Ana, my much older sister, Maeve."

At the introduction, Maeve scowled at Blake. "I'm not much older, hardly at all, really," she sniffed. "Hi, Ana, very pleased to meet you."

Ana beamed, liking Maeve better now that she knew the familial relationship between her and Blake. "It's very nice to meet you, too."

"So my brother informs me that you need a place to stay for a few days; you're welcome to bunk here in my humble abode."

"Hardly humble," Ana said. "Your home is simply beautiful."

"Thank you," she bowed dramatically. "My interior designer would no doubt warm at your words. Now, Bertie will show you to your room and you can get settled."

Thanking Maeve, Ana followed Bertie, who'd been hovering in the background as introductions were made.

Turning to his sister, Geoffrey grasped her hand. "I really appreciate the favor, Moby."

"Let's go sit down and chat for a bit," she said, leading him further into the room. They sat on black leather Barcelona chairs. Once ensconced, Maeve began to grill her younger brother.

"What's this all about?"

"You know the name Christian Grey?"

"Yes, of course."

"The man has developed an obsession with Ana and is pretty much stalking her. Her condo has been broken into twice in the past week so he wants her to stay with him but he's attempting to control her every move. She's without options right now because her family is out of state and her best friend just moved to Chicago. I wanted to help her out a bit but obviously I can't have her stay with me."

"Obviously." She smoothed the back of her dark hair thoughtfully. "Well. Christian Grey, huh? He's a most eligible bachelor, has women panting after him constantly but never got serious with anyone as far as anyone can tell. I always pegged him as being gay but unwilling to be open about it. It's interesting that he's latched on to an innocent such as Ana."

"Interesting, perhaps, but not surprising. The man probably feeds off innocence and passivity, power hungry bastard."

Her left eyebrow shot up. "Methinks you're getting a bit too involved for a professor/student relationship. Be careful, Geoffrey."

"I'm trying to keep a professional distance… but I'll admit I'm drawn to the young woman."

She rolled her eyes. "Allow me to sketch out a scenario for you to chew on, dear brother. Let's suppose you are correct about Mr. Grey having an undue affection for our Ana. Let us further suppose you express an inappropriate amount of attention her way. What is the first thing Mr. Grey might do to brush you out of the picture?"

"Report me to the dean for fraternization."

"The dean? Don't be naïve, Geoff. He'll go straight to the president with a hefty donation check and innuendo whispered into his or her ear at the banquet table. Do not give him ammo against you."

He nodded, a troubled expression on his face. "You're absolutely right and—"

"Oh," Maeve's voice rose in volume, "here comes Ana. Was everything to your satisfaction, I hope?"

"Oh, of course. Everything is perfect. I can't thank you enough for your generosity."

"Oh, it's nothing at all. Can you two join me for dinner?"

"I'd love to, Moby. Is Carter coming home to dine?"

"He should be here in about a half hour. He flew in from Tokyo this morning and he's got to be exhausted but I'm sure he can spend a few minutes with his favorite brother-in-law."

Smiling, Geoffrey said, "Not to mention his only brother-in-law."

"Not for long. Erin called me last night: she and Justin are getting hitched… finally."

"Oh, joy, another wedding to attend, and you know how I love those."

"Too bad: you look dashing in a tux. Come on, Ana," she linked her arm through Ana's and led her into the dining room.

Next to the kitchen and situated at the front of the house, the dining room was done as tastefully as the living room without the spectacular view. Apparently Maeve or whomever her architect was decided to sacrifice the views in the kitchen and dining rooms to afford the best one in the great room. Still, the dining room had French doors leading to a leafy brick courtyard and Maeve threw the doors open since the weather was mild.

Ana leaned in and spoke softly to Blake. "I thought you said your sister's name was Maeve? Why do you call her Moby?"

"Her nickname is Moby because her initials are MOB. Her middle name is Orlaith. Very Irish."

"Is yours?"

Smiling, he shakes his head. "Not Geoffrey but Patrick obviously is Irish. My father was a Brit and Geoffrey was an old family name. Anyway, what's in a name?"

"Well, Shakespeare asked that question, too, didn't he? I think your name suits you extremely well. Not to change the subject but I really appreciate your going out on a limb to help me. It was above and beyond the call of duty, but I'm so grateful."

"It's nothing: my sister is glad for the company, I'm sure. Plus, we both get the satisfaction of knowing we stymied the great Christian Grey and his plans. He'll never find you here."

"Hmm. I wouldn't be so sure about that, Professor. He's a talented man."

"He'll only find you if he's having you followed," he said it jokingly but Ana saw the birth of alarm on his face as the possibility occurred to him. He jumped out of his seat and went to a window at the front of the house.

He scanned the expensive real estate up and down the block. Most of the residents garaged their cars but there were a few parked against the curb. A dark sedan sat two houses down but the windows were so darkly tinted that he could barely make out the man seated inside… but he was fairly certain there was a man in the driver's seat. He called to his sister.

"Do you recognize that dark blue BMW?"

"No, why?"

"It just occurred to me that he might be having her followed."

"I think your taste for intrigue is carrying you away, little brother. Let's go have dinner." She took hold of his arm and led him back into the dining room.

Stephen drove them past the house three times slowly so Christian could take a good look. As they rode down the block, he saw the BMW that belonged to the tail he put on Ana. Good. He'd know exactly when—and it had better be _when_ and not _if_—either or both of them left the house and he'd follow Ana. Christian was trying to remain calm but it was a monumental effort. He leaned back into the leather car seat, thinking about last night and Ana in his arms and he wanted to just barge into that ugly little house and grab her. Why did laws have to apply to people like him who ran the fucking world? He should be exempt.

After the third circuit around the block, he directed Stephen to take him home. He knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Ana would not be returning to his penthouse, not tonight and probably—in her mind at least—not ever. He could actually feel the malignant fury amassing deep in his viscera: heat and something almost solid began to spin in his gut, infiltrating his bloodstream and sending all systems into adrenaline shock. It was imperative that he wrest control before the beast inside took him over.

"Stephen," he barked, "drop me off at the gym, instead."

His driver hesitated for only a moment. "Yes, Mr. Grey."

Christian knew Stephen was confused since there was a fully equipped gym in Christian's apartment. Exercise was not on his mind right now but the pert redheaded receptionist at the exclusive gym he belonged to was. Yes, he needed to work out but even more urgent, he needed to get laid quickly or he'd end up doing something rash with Ana. If he were to win this game, he had to make his moves with cunning not irrational anger.

Less than ten minutes later, they'd arrived at the gym. "Wait for me right here," he snapped.

"Yes, sir."

Leaping out of the car before his driver had a chance to open his door, he made a beeline for the VIP entrance. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he saw her. What was her name again? Rona? Rena? He couldn't remember. He sauntered up to her desk.

"Hello again." A consummate actor, not a trace of anger or exigency was in his voice: it was sultry and relaxed. Fortuitously, she wore a nametag. "Beautiful Rowena, how are you tonight?"

Blushing slightly, she smiled up at him. "I'm quite well, thank you, Mr. Grey. How can I assist you?"

He looked around at the reception area: no one was in earshot. "Can you step away from the desk for a few minutes, Rowena?" He winked at her, giving her notice of what he intended.

Instead of answering him, she picked up a phone. "Cara, hi. Can you relieve me at the VIP desk for twenty minutes, please? Right now. Thanks."

"Please make yourself comfortable in Room 7, Mr. Grey. I'll join you shortly."

"Thank you." He walked down the hall toward the spa rooms.

After he'd finished with the redhead, he headed over to the treadmills: he still had some manic energy to burn. He'd been rough with Rowena but she hadn't seemed to mind, not at all. Some women preferred it rough and he was only too pleased to oblige them. Their accommodation allowed him to be gentle with the women who mattered, women like his Ana. Rowena knew she could expect a trinket from Tiffany's by the close of work tomorrow. Perhaps she'd also get a visit from a personal shopper with a prepaid budget: he got the sense the woman liked high-end clothes. It was only fair: she'd be sore tomorrow on both ends, maybe even a bit black and blue. He shook out the kinks from his arms and legs before climbing onto the treadmill.

Ana sat sipping her coffee at the small patio table in the courtyard. She didn't have a class until ten this morning and since she was up at six, she had plenty of time. Geoffrey's sister was such a nice person to take her in but Ana wasn't comfortable; she felt as if she was imposing on this nice woman so she couldn't sleep very well. By ten of six, she'd been up four times so she threw in the towel and got up for the day.

She hadn't looked at her phone all day yesterday, not a single time: she was afraid of what she'd see. Fortifying herself with caffeine and deep, cleansing breaths, she finally pulled it out of her bag and checked it for messages.

Nothing. No missed calls, no messages. She checked twice because she almost couldn't believe it. Did Christian decide she was too much trouble?

Good, she thought. Maybe she was finally rid of him and she could focus on other things besides the controlling egomaniac bastard. She took another sip of the coffee, planning out her day. Though the dearth of messages from Christian gave her confidence and made her feel calmer, there was a twinge at the back of her mind nagging at her. She finally allowed it its quarter: yes, if she were totally honest with herself, she'd admit that she was a little disappointed. There was a part of her, albeit a small one, that liked the attention from Christian, liked feeling that someone powerful was looking out for her, protecting her, possibly even loving her. Ah, well. It's over now.

After a quick shower, she threw on a pair of jeans and a white shirt, along with her comfortable Danish clogs and went in search of Maeve. Fifteen minutes later, she found her in the small study off the family room. Ana knocked gently on the open door.

"Maeve?" She waited until the woman looked up from her computer screen.

"Yes, Ana?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving for school and work. Is there anything you might need that I could pick up for you or your husband?"

"Oh, thanks but no. I'm sorry you didn't get to meet Carter last night but he'll be home earlier tonight so that will be remedied. What time might I expect you this evening?"

"I usually work until five or thereabouts so I guess around six. Is that convenient?"

"Absolutely. We'll see you then, Ana. Have a nice day."

For the duration of the drive to school, Ana ruminated on the radical changes that occurred in her life in the last month. Why? Were these changes being engineered by someone? She knew it wasn't possible but still it felt more than random, one coming on the heels of the other.

Professor Blake was being really sweet to her: his personal side was a marked departure from his professional persona. Which one was the real Blake? Ana wondered. By the end of the drive, she decided to try to take things as they came without dwelling at length on them. It was the saner approach, she felt, especially for her. Accordingly she was able to really enjoy her drawing class, throwing all of her enthusiasm into the class for a change.

"He left at ten last night and didn't return?"

"That's correct, sir. I called you when he left last night. He never returned."

"But the girl didn't leave last night? You're sure?"

"Certain. She left the house at about eight this morning and after a brief stop at a coffee house, she went straight to school. I'm parked near her car right now."

"Good. Stay on her and report any movements to me."

"Yes, Mr. Grey. I will."

He tapped his fingers on the desk, impatient to move things along. At nine-fifteen, he had a meeting crosstown involving a philanthropic project he'd signed onto—it was sure to eat up most if not all of his morning. This afternoon he had a web conference with some of his people in the Qatar office. He was hoping to get to the campus when she finished work, possibly intercept her before she went back to that house, that house that was somehow connected to the professor. He'd know more about who lived in the house a bit later. For now, he had to put it aside and concentrate on his workday.

Maeve Preston called her brother on his cell shortly after Ana left her house for school. "Did I wake you, lazy?"

"No, Moby. I just got out of the shower—I've a class in forty-five minutes so I need to hurry."

"I just wanted to let you know that the dark blue BMW is still outside. It's in a different spot so I don't think it was out there all night."

"Hmm. If that is one of Grey's people then he knows where Ana is staying but he probably has no idea with whom she's staying. For now. Let's just see where this goes."

"Okay. Be careful, though, Geoffrey: this guy can create problems for you."

"And I can create problems for him. He's not the only one with a big, fat bank account."

"Still… be on guard," she warned her brother. "Oh, and when Erin calls to tell you about her engagement, act surprised, okay? She'll get pissed if she finds out I stole her thunder."

"I'll be sure to fall over in delighted surprise, Moby."

Ana reached Blake's office by noon. He was leaning far back in his chair, his feet on the desk and the phone held glued to his ear. Whoever was on the other end of the line was not making him happy by the look on his face. Ana put her things down and began to tackle the paperwork that had accumulated since she'd last been here.

"Yes, that's fine," she heard him say. "I will certainly do so. Thank you." He returned the phone to its cradle and looked at the young woman in front of him whose face reflected an unspoken question.

Prefacing his comment with a smirk, he told her his suspicion. "It's not impossible that Grey is already using some muscle to upset the apple cart, so to speak."

"Oh, no. Please don't tell me he's starting trouble."

"It's still too soon to know. Let's just wait and see." he put his fingers to his lips in contemplation. "So… how are you this day?"

Ana smiled and sat down directly across from the hunky yet erudite man she worked for. "Very good, thanks. And you?"

"Not bad at all." He said it with a straight face but amusement twinkled in his eyes. Those eyes were fascinating and before she could reconsider, she blurted it out. "Oh, your eyes look blue today."

"Do they? You do know they're green, don't you?"

Ana shook her head. "A few of us discussed the color of your eyes because they look different depending on the colors you wear and the lighting. Of course, we didn't dare to ask."

"Why not?"

"Professor, don't you remember how you shredded the girl who did? We all decided then and there we could live happily ever after without knowing the color of your eyes for sure. None of us wanted to be next in line."

He just stared, flummoxed by her words. She watched as enlightenment dawned in those pretty eyes. "Oh, you must mean Tabitha Keebler. Yes, I did publicly shred her, as you so quaintly put it, but you don't know the backstory on our tête à tête."

She waited, an interested look on her face.

"Tabitha Keebler has stalked me for four consecutive semesters. Since I only teach one undergraduate course, after she took that and passed, she got permission to register in one of my graduate seminars. The next semester she was in another one. And this semester still another. When I looked up her files, I saw she was a nursing student who only needed one art class, which she'd satisfied with the first one taken. I grew tired of her being in my face all the time, asking inane questions, giggling and flirting. It was time to rid myself of her… so I did." He grinned, pleased with himself, and waited for Ana's response.

"So your eyes are green?"

"As green as the Chicago River on St. Patrick's Day. Come closer and you'll see just how green they are."

She rose out of her chair and crossed to where he sat. When she leaned down to look closer into his eyes, he reached up and kissed her. It was a demure kiss, closed mouth and gentle. Still, she was taken aback at his boldness.

"Was that okay with you or did I take liberties I shouldn't have?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Uh… It was okay. And you're right: your eyes are green. Up close, there's no disputing it."

"Perhaps you should stay close then? Just so you can confirm the color on a day to day basis?"

"Perhaps," she answered and he gave her another quick kiss before pulling back. The last thing he wanted to do was cause more problems for Ana… or himself.

An hour later when Ana stepped out to use the ladies' room, her thoughts were tumbling like clothes in a dryer. He kissed her! Kate was right: the professor was interested in her romantically… and she was certainly interested in him. They couldn't take it any further, though, not while she was a student in his class. Still, it was nice to know he found her attractive because she was most definitely attracted to him. God, she couldn't wait to call Kate. Maybe she'd just go visit Kate next weekend, rather than wait for spring break. She missed her friend so much and it had been only a few days since she left town.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, Ana strolled back to the office but found it empty. Where was Blake? She thought it would be nice to get lunch. Once again, she checked her phone: one message. Her heart almost stopped. Scrolling down with trepidation, she quickly saw it was from Jose. Whew.

_Are you coming with me to the airport to pick up Lola? Could use some moral support; haven't seen lil sis in a long while and I am nervous. Please?_

She quickly replied to his text. _Tell me where and when and I'll be there. Can't wait to meet Lola_.

"Mr. Grey? The subject just returned to her car at 5:08 p.m. She is alone and I will follow her. Anything else, sir?"

"No. Just stay on her and keep me informed. Please do not approach her or allow her to make you."

"No, sir."

Christian disconnected. He'd had a very long, tiring day and he needed to get home and relax. He'd really appreciate having Ana beside him. Damn, how had she managed to get under his skin so fast and so thoroughly? How much time and space should he allow her? He wondered what she thought of his absence. Was she relieved or disappointed? Probably a little bit of both.

Trying to deny the temptation to just grab her and be done with it was a mammoth effort but he prevailed. When he got home, he took a hot steam shower, poured two fingers of his best scotch, and settled in the library with _Clausewitz's On War_. Just as he found his place in the book, his iPhone rang.

It was Merrick, the consummate criminal he used for certain delicate operations. "Yes?"

"I wanted to check with you to ensure our operation is completed. I'll be leaving the country soon for an extended period. I wanted to inform you."

"How extended?"

"About a month, give or take a few days. Did you need more work at that condo?"

"No. Assignment is completed. Call when you get back in case I have more work for you."

"Yes."

Christian sank into the soft leather of the chair, allowing the scotch to work its magic. Tonight he could feel every one of his days on him and he didn't like it. It was more than time to marry and start a family, work on his legacy. Ana was the lucky one he'd chosen as his partner. Now he just had to convince her of their shared destiny and he was finding it an unexpected challenge.

He laughed, the sound bouncing off the mahogany-lined walls of the library. He could walk into any room, in any building, pretty much anywhere, and come out with ten women who would agree to become his wife tomorrow. The redhead at the gym would head the line. She was a pretty thing, tall and thin who somehow managed to have big tits—natural, too—and she let him fuck every part of her with not a peep of protest. He'd left her with bite marks on those giant tits, the flesh on her hips already beginning to bruise, and her ass couldn't feel too great today after the slamming he gave it.

Yet afterward, she'd slipped into the bathroom to quietly wash and dress, gave him a smile and a kiss, and smoothing her hair, exited the room without any attitude at all. Yes. She'd make a fine wife, he was sure, just not his. Demure little Ana was the one he wanted and the one he'd damn well get.

He needed to get rid of that fucking professor and it would be clear sailing.

The report was on his desk when he strode into his office the next day, his mood black. The home where Ana was staying belonged to a married couple, the Carter Prestons. Fucking WASPy name if ever he heard one—transpose the given name with the surname and it wouldn't make one bit of a fucking difference: Carter Preston, Preston Carter, stupid fucking WASP. Though technically a WASP himself, it didn't prevent him from loathing the pretentious motherfuckers, asinine bluebloods. The next sentence was the important one: wife, Maeve Preston née Blake.

Blake, Blake, fucking Blake. It was his fucking sister! He picked up the heavy antique embosser, a gift from a former girlfriend, and sent it hurling into the wall where it caved in a two-foot hole. Stupid, satisfying but stupid. Now he'd have to have it repaired and everyone in the outer office had to have heard the thunderous sound it created.

He counted, ten, nine, the knock came at eight. "Mr. Grey?"

"Yes, come in."

It was one of the new executive staff members, a blonde by the name of… shit, what was her name? Alana?

"Mr. Grey, is everything all right? We heard a loud bang…"

"Yes, Alana, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Everything is in order. I apologize if I startled you. Please close the door on your way out."

"Yes, sir."

Blake was getting in his way and the temptation to get him fired was almost too much to tolerate. The only reason he was resisting was that Ana would surely know he had something to do with it and it would set back his progress with her. It would be too obvious. Wouldn't it?

Or would it? Perhaps just a single phone call with a mention of something he heard and a promise to send a check for the new library fund. He reached for the phone.


	11. Chapter 11

23

23

**Chapter 11**

Three days. She'd been there three fucking days and she hadn't called him once. He vigorously rubbed his eyes with his fingers until he saw a kaleidoscope of colors flashing through his head. How long was she planning to impose on the professor's sister? In the interim, his man stationed at Ana's condo reported that a locksmith had come and changed out all the door locks, and added new, secure window latches; a security firm had soon followed, installing an alarm system that his man said was a good one and would be difficult to breach. Was the German shepherd puppy next?

Damn her, anyway. She was supposed to come running to him after the second break-in and what does she do instead? She calls another man! Even now, after some time had elapsed, the burning fury grips his chest whenever he thinks of that day. Perhaps the most infuriating of all was that his volatile reaction to that behavior—_her_ ridiculous behavior—was what pushed her away from him, possibly for good. It was all her fucking fault!

And now she'd left him flat. So… that was it? She was done with him?

Oh, no, Ms. Steele. I think not.

He simply wouldn't allow it. He'd already planted a seed in Lafferty's mind—Lafferty was the dean of the Arts and Humanities department at the university—with regard to Blake and not a stinking thing had come of it yet. Everyone around him moved at a glacial pace and it continually drove him to distraction. In his world, when something needed to get done, he got it done and quickly and successfully at that. Why couldn't everyone be as efficient?

Frustrated, he stood and paced his office. He needed to take more proactive measures, yes… to effect a positive outcome. His superb decisive skills are what led him to achieve resounding success in business; he needed to employ them in his personal life as well and stop dicking around this mere slip of a girl who was proving to be downright adversarial. His mistake was in trying to be gentle with her. It wasn't working worth a damn.

On the heels of that thought, his cell phone came to life in his jacket pocket and he whipped it out, annoyed at the interruption of his stream of consciousness and ready to take it out on the fool who caused it. When he saw the identity of the caller, however, his mouth stretched widely into an evil grin.

Here, little kitty.

…..

Ana soaked in Maeve's big garden tub filled with scalding hot water and jasmine oil, hoping it would relax her and perhaps even help lift her depressive mood. She'd been unable to shake the feeling of doom and gloom over the last week, despite Geoffrey's best efforts. He'd tried to cheer her up, helping to hire a reputable locksmith and security company to make the condo safer. He also cautioned her to stay as far away from Christian Grey as possible.

She heeded that advice. Surprisingly, Grey didn't try to reach out to her either. Good. That was good. He needed to know that he'd ruined everything with his unconscionable behavior, that whatever they'd started to have together was over because of it.

But as days passed, she found herself perversely wanting more and more to speak to Christian. He hadn't called her, not a single time. He hadn't attempted to contact her in any way—no email, no flowers, nothing. It was as if she'd dropped off the face of his earth. Meanwhile, Geoffrey kept acting as if Grey was following her, watching her every move, _stalking_ her.

She didn't believe it. If he were that fanatical, she'd have heard from him by now. She had begun to believe that he wasn't interested in her at all, that he'd just wanted to get her in bed, and having accomplished that quickly and handily, he'd lost interest. It made her angry but it didn't stop her from wanting to see him again.

Tomorrow she was moving back into the condo. She couldn't impose on the Carter Prestons a moment longer. Besides, the condo was now as break-in-proof as possible. She was going to be hanging with Jose and his little sister this coming weekend and the following week she'd travel to Chicago to see Kate. Keeping busy was important; plus, she couldn't wait to see Kate and find out the big secret about her new job.

There was a soft knock on her bedroom door. "Ana?"

Geoffrey. She hurriedly jerked on a pair of jeans. She'd been lounging in nothing but a short white tee and had no bra on—not exactly how you want your professor to find you in the middle of the afternoon… or at all. "Come in," she called, after she buttoned the jeans.

He poked his head in. "Hey, am I interrupting anything?"

She grinned, wondering what he thought he might be interrupting. "No, just doing some reading for my class on Monday. What's up?"

"My sister mentioned you're going home tomorrow."

She nodded. "It's time."

"Do you think it's safe?"

"I think so, yes. Don't you?"

He stepped farther into the room. "I'm not sure, Ana. I think you're still being followed."

"Really? Because he hasn't tried to call me or contact me in any way. I can't see why he'd have me followed."

"That blue car is still out there, Ana."

"It probably belongs to someone on the block. I'm feeling confident about going home. If he's having me followed, he knows I'm here anyway, right?"

"Right… but he can't do anything because you're surrounded by other people. That won't be the case if you go home."

"It'll be fine, Geoffrey. Next weekend I'll be with my friend Jose nearly every minute. His little sister is visiting from LA and he asked me eons ago to hang with them. The following week I'm going to Chicago for three days so I won't be around for anyone to stalk…" She smiled.

He put up his hands. "Okay, I know when I'm beat. Just be careful, please. I don't want to have to break in a new assistant."

Her mouth gaped open and then widened into a grin. "Well, thanks."

"I jest, Ana. I am worried about you." He stepped closer. "I like your outfit."

She saw where his eyes were focused and blushed. "I guess I won't ask what you like about it."

She'd been sitting on the corner of the bed and now he stood directly in front of her, looking down. He leaned in and touched his lips to hers and she allowed it, knowing what they were doing violated the university rules against fraternization. But as long as nobody complained…

The kiss deepened and he slid down next to her, sitting on the bed. His tongue was coaxing her lips to open forcing her body to rocket into a heightened arousal: she wanted him right in that moment but she didn't want to put him in a compromising position. Still, her lips parted, allowing the kiss to continue. She just hoped he knew when to stop.

He did. After his hand moved from her shoulder to her breast, he realized what he was doing and pulled away all at once.

"Ana… I apologize. I don't know what came over me."

"It's fine, Geoffrey. There's nothing to apologize for. We're both free agents and if it weren't for the rules of the university, there would be zero wrong with it. Consenting adults and all that."

"Yes, consenting adults and yet I can easily lose my position over it." He smiled. "Would you care to have dinner with me this evening?"

"Yes, I'd like that. Can I have fifteen minutes or so to change?"

Gifting her with a beaming smile, he stood up. "Of course, Ana. Come into the kitchen when you're ready. I'll wait there for you."

Ana didn't move an eyelash until the door closed behind him and she released the breath she'd been holding. Wow, it was definitely confirmed with the second kiss then. The kiss and then some. Blake was interested in her and after the semester ended, they'd be free to pursue a relationship. She was definitely attracted to him—who wouldn't be? The professor was gorgeous, not to mention brilliant, and apparently rich, too.

His kiss and close proximity got her heart pounding hard and fast, and her pulse speeding, for sure. But… her response to Blake, though powerful, wasn't as intense as her response to the fuckhead. Not even close. Maybe it was precisely because he was a fuckhead that she found Christian Grey beyond attractive? More than anything else she wanted to call him.

She battled herself for hours, finally deciding to wait until the next day, after she said her thank-you's and goodbye's to the Prestons, to wait until she got home to her empty condo. Maybe she'd come to her senses and change her mind. Stranger things have happened.

First minute back at the condo the next day, she threw a load of wash into the machine, checked the voice mail on the land line, took stock of the pantry, and made a quick trip to the farmer's market to buy some fresh food. She figured maybe she'd call Christian when she got back from shopping. Or maybe instead she'd make an appointment to get her hair cut?

By four p.m. she'd done everything, including getting her hair cut. Luckily, Stefan had an opening today and he shoehorned her right in. It was a good decision for she always felt immeasurably better after a haircut. Who didn't?

She was sitting on the sofa, listening to Billie Holiday, and sipping one of the best red wines she'd ever tasted when she decided to call Christian. She knew it was probably a mistake on her part and she didn't plan to tell Geoffrey about it. But she couldn't deny that she desperately wanted to hear his voice. She just didn't know why.

The phone rang twice and he answered on the third ring. "Ana?"

Did his voice sound hopeful or annoyed? She couldn't tell. "Hi, Christian. I… uh… wanted to check in with you."

Silence. It stretched out for seconds but felt like an eternity. She was about to say something else when he finally spoke up.

"I hadn't heard from you for so extended a period, I'd thought you'd written me off."

"I thought I had, too."

"I see. What changed your mind?"

"I'm not sure. I really wanted to hear your voice."

"That's nice to hear. Is it possible you want to see me, as well?"

She chuckled weakly. "I'm busy this week and then I go to Chicago to see Kate. Perhaps when I return?"

"Must I wait that long, Ana? Do you not have an hour to spare me this weekend?"

"I suppose I can do an hour… but that would probably be all I can manage."

"I'll take it. What time shall I pick you up tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Uh, well, I'm free until noon. How about ten? That'll give us two hours."

"I'll be there at ten sharp. I'm assuming you're back at your condo?"

"Yes, I am."

"Have you been there all along?"

"No. I was staying with a friend until today. I've had new locks put on the door and all the windows, and an alarm system was installed a few days ago. I finally feel secure in here."

"Very good. I'll see you tomorrow morning at ten, Ana. Have a good evening."

She disconnected and sat there, staring at the phone. What did she just do? Geoffrey would be annoyed with her—and he had every right to be. He'd gone out of his way to help her keep away from Christian and the first thing she does when she gets back home is call the man. Her heart was beating violently against her chest wall. Should she back out?

On the back of that thought, her phone chimed. As it was already in her hand she simply looked down to see who was calling. Christian. Maybe he was going to cancel?

"Yes?"

"Ana. I got to thinking that maybe you weren't doing anything tonight and perhaps we could have dinner. Is that a possibility?"

"I just assumed you had plans so…"

"My plans can be cancelled."

"Oh, no, please don't do that on my account. We'll stick with tomorrow morning."

"Ana, if I didn't want to cancel my plans, I wouldn't have offered. I'd like to see you tonight. May I?"

"Okay." Her voice was faint but he heard her.

"I'm going home now. I'll just shower and head over. Give me an hour or so."

"Isn't it a bit early for dinner," she asked, checking her watch and seeing it was barely five."

"I'm sure we can think of something to do until a reasonable dinner hour."

She could hear the laughter in his voice and she wanted to believe it was not at her expense. "Yes, fine. I'll see you soon."

After disconnecting, she scooted into the bedroom to change her clothes, having no idea how she should dress. Ultimately, she decided to err on the casual side, sliding into a pair of jeans and a white eyelet sleeveless top. She slipped into a pair of high-heeled black leather boots, brushed out her long hair, and clasped on her watch and some jewelry. Her make-up was freshened and then, having pronounced herself ready, she ducked into the kitchen to get some glasses and a bottle of vino.

…..

An hour later to the minute, he rang the bell outside and she buzzed him in. She stood by the open apartment door, waiting for him to walk down the hall. When she caught sight of him, her breath hitched in her throat. My God, but he was handsome—like, Greek-god handsome. If she put him and Blake side by side, any other man would pale into mere insignificance. Seeing him now reminded her of the charming, affable man she met in the hotel hallway that night, before she got to see the less attractive one lurking underneath the facade.

While she ogled him in his jeans and black shirt, in a few long-legged strides, he was immediately in front of her.

"Ana," he said, his arms reaching for her and pulling her into his embrace. "I missed you."

She looked up at him, smiling, and was about to say the same when his mouth descended on hers and he kissed her passionately. Every time she tried to come up for air and say something, his tongue pushed back into her mouth and he pulled her to his chest in a tighter embrace. Was he doing it on purpose so she couldn't speak, couldn't reject him? Probably.

Finally, using some force, she pushed him away. "Christian, let me catch my breath. Come in."

He was right behind her, his body throwing off enough heat to warm her back. She turned to close the door and he took the opportunity to yank her back into his arms, his hand pressing on the small of her back so that she could feel his huge erection. The instant she felt how hard he was, she also felt a rush of heat zap through her body and pool between her legs. Which, of course, was his intention.

"Christian, aren't we moving a little fast here?"

"Don't be coy, Ana. We're long past this point. It all comes down to a simple thing: do you forgive me my transgressions or do you not? If you do, I'd really like to make love to you, right here, right now. If you don't… I don't know that we have all that much to say to one another."

"Perhaps I'd like to have a conversation with you first, explore the possibility of continuing…"

"I'm a man of action… I don't talk things to death. I know what I want, Ana, and what I want is you. I need a simple yes or no. What's it to be?"

She looked at him, both frustrated by his pigheadedness and completely aroused by his take-charge personality. Knowing she'd probably regret it in the morning, she gave him his answer.

"Yes."

He didn't wait for another syllable, grabbing her and grinding his hips against hers to remind her of what he had for her. When he felt her respiration speed up, he lifted her easily into his arms and carried her to the hall.

"Which room?"

"Far right," she replied, half panting, only briefly considering the mess she left the room in.

He kicked open the door and taking a look around, brought her to the bed. He followed her onto it so quickly that she didn't have time to even take a breath.

"Christian," she managed before he was on her again. Her pretty little eyelet shirt was pushed up and off, followed very quickly by her bra. Now he finally moved from her lips, putting her breast into his mouth. He was not being gentle at all and a deep moan worked its way up from her diaphragm and out of her throat as intense sensations bombarded her.

He lifted his head when he heard it. "Does it feel good, Ana? Did your body miss me as much as mine missed you?" His fingers played with her breasts. "Are you wet with wanting me?"

Though she found his words embarrassing, they were making her body run ever more hot. Everything he did seemed calculated toward one thing and one thing only: he wanted to possess her… and he was succeeding admirably.

Standing up urgently, he removed her boots, and dragged her jeans off her legs. She was naked now but for the tiny scrap of light blue satiny material that masqueraded as underwear. He leaned down and gently bit her right on the satin triangle, in the exactly right place.

"Ahhh."

"You want me, Ana? Tell me, tell me now." His voice had gotten deeper and more abrasive.

"Yes, Christian, I want you. I want you right now."

He quickly stripped off his clothes, flipped her over, and lay down on top of her, allowing all of his weight to be borne by her. He wanted her to understand that he was in control, always was, and always would be. She would bear his weight as she would bear his possession. He took her hands in each of his and brought them up to the bars of her iron headboard, wrapping her fingers on each hand around a bar and covering her hands with his own. He held her hands tightly closed as he kicked open her legs and thrust into her.

He wasn't wearing a condom. Would she notice?

He wanted to go slowly and he did at first, but he'd been fantasizing about her for days on end and the redhead at the gym did nothing but just scratch at the itch: she didn't satisfy him the way Ana did. And so he forgot about his control, just for a minute, and hammered away at her until he came explosively.

Never selfish, he immediately turned her on her back and finished her off, tonguing her until she screamed and writhed and he had to hold on for all he was worth to stay on her, his little whirling dervish.

When they were finished, he took her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her, inhaling her scent into his lungs. "I missed you, Ana," he said, his voice scratchy, as if he'd been yelling. "It almost killed me to refrain from calling or visiting you."

"Why didn't you?"

"I was trying to give you some space to think." He paused and then whispered into her ear, "Can you tell me where you were staying?"

She turned her head to look at him, her hand covering his that was resting on her stomach. "You really don't know?"

"Of course I don't. How would I?" He hoped he sounded exasperated, the way one would who didn't have people followed.

She chuckled. "My, uh, friend thought I was being tailed, presumably by you. He kept seeing a dark blue car…" She realized her mistake instantly but it was too late. Shit!

"He?" The volume of his voice escalated.

"Yes, a male friend. I stayed with his sister, not with him."

"Jose?"

"No. I don't want to discuss it anymore, okay?"

Having irritated her already, he began with another line of questions and demands.

"Why do you have to help Jose with his sister?"

She shrugged slightly. "Because I promised…"

"And then you're off to Chicago, I think you said?"

"Yes, to see Kate."

"You can take my plane." He kissed her neck.

"That won't be necessary, Christian. I can fly commercial."

"You can but you won't. So, Ana, tell me what kind of relationship you have with your professor and employer? This Blake fellow?"

She sat up straighter. "Why is it important?"

"Why? Ana, you belong to me, that's why it's important. Your safety is my primary concern."

"What happened to, _if you don't forgive me then we have nothing more to say_? Suddenly I belong to you?"

"Ana," he kissed her hair, running his fingers through it affectionately, "you've always belonged to me, in a way. I was just trying to be gentle about it, my darling girl. I want you to quit your job." It was stated calmly, with no preamble whatsoever.

She sat up straighter, arching her back. "Quit? Why?"

"Because, first: I don't like your working for your professor. It creates an environment that invites a conflict of interest. He very well may have romantic designs on you, Ana, and if you rebuff him, he could take it out on your grade."

"He wouldn't do—"

"Please allow me to finish speaking," he interrupted sternly. "Your manners could do with some polishing, Ana."

"I apologize, Christian. I'm not usually on such formal terms with my friends."

"Formal? Interrupting someone before he or she is finished speaking is merely informal? That's not how I was brought up."

Not wishing to get into an argument over such ridiculousness, she chose to let it slide. "Please continue."

His hands began massaging her bare shoulders as he spoke. "Secondly, it will give you more time for your studies. I will augment your income, if there's a financial need, no strings attached. I merely want you to finish your studies expeditiously and with the best grades possible. And third, I've recently spoken to a friend whose wife is a dean in the Arts & Humanities department. He claims that Blake is currently being investigated by the university for various transgressions, not the least of which is fraternization with his students. It would behoove both you and your Professor Blake not to have any kind of relationship that could be held up as suspect. Do you understand, Ana?"

"Christian," she turned her head to face him, "I'm going to ask you this once and only once: did you have me followed at all since I left your apartment last week?"

He looked her square in the eye and shook his head. "No, I most certainly did not and I resent your suspicions, quite frankly."

She sat back, leaning against his chest once again, finding it annoyingly comforting. It was as if she fit perfectly within the contours of his body.

"Did you want to go out for dinner?"

"It's rather a moot point now, isn't it?

He squeezed her with one arm wrapped around her and began to tickle her with the other.

"Christian, no!" she yelled, between bouts of giggles—she was so ticklish.

He kept up the torture as he chided her. "So that's all you want me for, is that it? My body? How very crass of you, Ana. I'm highly offended."

Never had being tickled felt so sinister to her. It seemed to Ana that behind everything he did, there was evil intent or it served some darker purpose.

By the time he finally relented and stopped tickling her, she was exhausted from laughing and screaming at him. "Now I'm definitely not going out to dinner with you, Grey," she grumbled.

"Well, if you have any food in this place at all, I'm sure I can whip up something edible for us to eat."

"You cook?" Her tone was one of disbelief.

"Of course I do. There aren't too many things I cannot do, my dear. But you'll learn, in time." He slapped her thigh. "So… do you have provisions here? I don't know that you've grocery-shopped, seeing how you just got back home recently."

"How did you know I just got back?

"You told me."

"Oh, right. Okay. Um, yes, I did buy some things but I'm not sure it's worthy of a meal."

"Let's go see. If not, we'll order out."

…

Jose looked at his friend. "So. Tell me. Are you still seeing the mighty Mr. Grey?"

Ana, trying to adopt a casual tone that wouldn't invite further interrogation, airily replied, "On and off."

"What does that mean, on and off?"

"It means just what it says: first we were on, then off, now we're back on. I don't think it will go anywhere because he acts as if he owns me."

"That's not good, Ana. Not good at all." His caramel eyes looked serious.

"I know it's not but—"

"Jose!" A young woman of about seventeen came hurtling through the front door. "Are we going out for dinner?"

Laughing at her exuberance, he gestured for her to come closer. "Lola, _ven acqui_. I want you to meet someone."

The teen sidled over and Ana took a good look at her. She was beautiful, with long dark hair and dark eyes, much darker than her brother's. Her skin tone was a bit darker than Jose's as well, and her features were so perfect, she could easily be a fashion model.

"Lola, this is my good friend, Ana. Ana, my bratty little sister, Lola."

"I'm not bratty," she retorted. 'Hi, Ana. Nice to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Lola. So… are we going out to dinner?"

"Yes, we are," Jose jumped in. "I picked a restaurant that I think both my dates will like. Ready?"

Both Ana and Lola nodded and they left his place, arm in arm.

Down the street, a dark blue sedan sat parked between two other dark vehicles. The man inside the auto watched the three people carefully as they got into Jose's car and as his red Jetta pulled away, the dark blue sedan followed.

…..

She was getting ready to leave for the airport when she remembered she forgot to pack her travel toiletry bag. Shit! Her flight was departing in a little over two hours from now and she was supposed to get to the airport right about now. She ran into the bathroom and grabbed the pink silk bag, shoving it into her handbag though it barely fit and made closing the bag impossible. As she locked up the apartment and began to hurry to her car, she was intercepted by a tall, blond man.

Stephen.

"Oh, no, not you again. What do you want now?"

"It's nice to see you, too, Ms. Steele. I'm here to take you to the plane."

"Why? I was planning on leaving my car at the airport so I'd have a ride home."

"Well, you can't leave your car at the private airfield overnight unless you're a member so I'll drive you and pick you up."

"What private airfield? I told Christian I was taking a commercial flight."

The man smiled. "You can tell Mr. Grey whatever you'd like to tell him but it doesn't mean he'll listen, Ms. Steele. My instructions are to take you to his plane upon which you will fly to Chicago."

She shook her head in disgust. What now? Should she just take the plane or ignore this lackey bastard and continue with her plans? Christian was really an egomaniac of epic proportions. Why did he think he could continually order her around?

….

The lights of Chicago were coming into view and it was a spectacular sight. She'd wanted to get here in the morning but in order to have more time with Kate, she decided to come the night before, right after school and work. Flying on Christian's private jet was much nicer than flying commercially and his pilot James was a sweetheart. So was the co-pilot Noreen. The attendant Pia, however, was just a tiny bit cool. Ana wondered if she had designs on the owner of the jet and was jealous of her. Looking her up and down carefully, Ana decided it was quite possible.

Her favorite music was blaring through her earphones right into her brain, the cocktail she sipped had gone straight to her head, and now she was watching the twinkling map of different colored lights spread out beneath her. She felt good. Making things even better, somewhere down there, Kate was waiting for her. She'd called her from Christian's car, instructing her on where to go to meet her plane. Luckily, Kate's car had been delivered by the moving company the day before so she could drive to the small airport just outside the city in Melrose Park.

"Ana!"

As soon as she entered the small glass building she saw her beautiful blond friend. "Kate, oh my God, I'm so glad to see you!" They leaped at each other and embraced.

"So," Kate held Ana at arm's length to look at her, "I'm gone two weeks and you're already so thick with the tycoon you're flying about in private jets, huh?"

Ana blushed. "Apparently… but I'm not going to waste time talking about him. It's all about you and me on this trip, at least until we're talked out about each other."

"Okay, scout's honor. Let's get your bags and go."

"Oh, James is arranging to have them carried in. It's just one large suitcase."

"James?"

"Christian's pilot? Anyway, you look absolutely great. I'm thinking you like the windy city?"

"I love it, Ana. Love it. Wait until you see my place. It's in a greystone—Chicago is famous for their greystones, like New York is famous for their brownstones.

The drive took about twenty minutes, door to door, and Kate pulled into an alley behind her building. They walked around to the front to go in the main entrance. The air was bitter cold, colder than Ana had ever felt it in her life and her nose was running by the time they got inside.

"My apartment is on the top floor, up two flights. The owners told me they might be listing it for sale so they only rented it by the month but I'm thinking I might buy it, Ana, since I really love my job."

Kate kept up the endless chatter, allowing Ana time to listen and think. When they got to Kate's door, she made Ana close her eyes and physically led her into the apartment.

"Okay, ready? You can open your eyes!"

Ana complied and opened her eyes to a beautifully tasteful room. Though the building was old, everything appeared to be brand new with an antique feeling throughout. Dark, nearly black, wood floors, pearl grey walls, dark brown and beige furniture placed comfortably in a room that stretched from the front to the back of the building, so there were windows everywhere. The coved ceiling was fairly high, probably about nine or ten feet. Just off to the left of the great room was a small but state of the art kitchen with cherry cabinetry, granite counters, and stainless appliances and fixtures. _Common but very high end_, Ana thought. _I wouldn't mind living here_.

Once her friend was settled in the guest bedroom, Kate sat her down to interrogate. "So tell me what's been going on."

Ana told her all about the second break-in, her job, school… she conveniently left out the whole drama with Christian. She'd have to tell Kate all about it before she left but she was too exhausted to go through it with her friend tonight. For now she wanted to keep things light.

"So when do I get to hear about this mystery job of yours?"

"Tomorrow," Kate said happily, clapping her hands in delight.

"I suppose I can wait one more night."

"Oh, the news is on. Let's watch."

Ana looked at Kate in surprise. "Since when do you get so excited about watching the news?

"Oh, new life here, Ana. What can I say?"

They watched the news, sipping the tea Kate made. "God, this tea is just delicious, Kate. What is it?"

"It's a British tea, another recent discovery. PG Tips. Oh, Ana, watch."

"Tonight, we bring you a special report on the horrors of human trafficking. What's particularly horrifying about the case that sparked this investigation is that it did not occur in some far-flung land. It happened right here in the United States, in the great state of California, to be specific. Here now with her special report is WLS's Kate Cavanaugh."

Ana's mouth dropped open as she glanced at her beaming friend. "You?"

"None other, darlin'. Yes, I'm the newest reporter for a very prestigious station, I might add. Usually you have to start in some bumfuck town. Do you see why I couldn't turn it down?"

"But… you never said you wanted to go into broadcasting."

"Wait until the commercial," she whispered.

Ana spoke up the instant the news went to commercial. "Well?"

"I studied both journalism and communications in undergrad school. I only switched to business for my graduate degree. Journalism was my first love and now I get to do it and be on television. What more can I ask?"

"And a major network news station just happened upon you on some school list and called you out of the blue? It sounds so bizarre to me."

"Hey, ours is not to reason why, ours is just to do or die. I'm here, the job is real, why should I worry about how it all came to be? Oh, shhh, here I am again."

They watched her report, which was indeed horrifying. A family who had relocated to the U.S. from Saudi Arabia had taken their Indonesian housemaid with them. Once in the States, they took away her passport and all of her ID, never paid her any money, and treated her like a slave, making her work sixteen-hour days. She finally escaped to a neighbor's house one day when she was out washing one of the family's four cars and the neighbor took her in and hid her.

The two friends went to bed shortly after the news ended. They wanted to get an early start to the day tomorrow. Kate was taking her friend sightseeing and then to the studio. Afterward, they'd have dinner with some of Kate's new Chicago friends.

Ana couldn't sleep: she lay in the strange bed wondering how this all happened for Kate. It seemed beyond suspect how Kate got the job… but Kate didn't seem to care if the Devil himself hired her as long as the job was real. And the moment the Devil popped into her mind, Ana remembered what he looked like. Christian Grey. Could he be behind Kate's new job? Could he have engineered it?

But why would he? Having Kate out of the picture wouldn't help him out any so why would he go to such a length? Why would he want Ana alone in the apartment?

Oh, God, no. Please, no. Ana broke into a cold sweat at the mere idea. Christian wouldn't do something so horrible, so awful, as to orchestrate the break-ins. Would he? That way she'd be all alone in the apartment and she'd be scared.

And she'd run to him.

That's why he got so angry when she went to Jose's place. It wasn't part of his script. Her stomach was twisting. Even though she barely believed it, she somehow knew with some reptilian part of her brain, that it was the truth. He did that. And if he's capable of doing all of that, he's certainly capable of having her followed. Geoffrey was right: Christian was having her followed. He wasn't giving her any space.

He's insane… and for some inexplicable reason, he wanted Ana. Very badly. She knew he wouldn't stop until he succeeded. The question was why. Why did he want her so badly that he would go to such extreme, not to mention illegal, lengths to get her? Was their whole "accidental" meeting at the Four Seasons planned too? Just how long has this thing been going on?

Her brain on fire, she didn't fall asleep until dawn was breaking in Chicago. Her last thought before finally acquiescing to her exhaustion was wondering whether or not she should tell Kate.


	12. Chapter 12

35

35

Chapter 12

The room filled with bright Midwestern sun, and looked like an overexposed photograph when Ana opened her eyes at almost ten the next day. She yawned and stretched, happy to be with Kate once again. When she glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table, what she saw caused her to nearly jump out of bed.

Shit! Kate wanted to get an early start. She grabbed for her toothbrush and paste and headed to the bathroom.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in this morning," Kate said when Ana emerged.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Don't think I didn't try. You were down for the count so I figured you needed the sleep. It's okay. We still have plenty of time."

Sheepishly, Ana reached for a mug to help herself to some coffee. "Yes, I couldn't get to sleep last night. Time change or whatever. After I chug down the coffee, I'll take a quick shower and be ready in no time flat. Okay?"

"Sure," Kate said, busily checking her email on her laptop. "Take your time."

As Ana showered she thought about her revelations of the previous night. Held up to the light of day, what seemed patently possible last night seemed absurdly ridiculous today. As if Christian Grey had nothing better to do than deviously manipulate her life, all for the purpose of controlling her? Stupid.

Kate got the job through a combination of dumb luck and hard work. The woman earned excellent grades, worked hard at intern jobs, and happened to be very beautiful. Somehow, the station came upon her and found her to be a good fit for its requirements. That's it. Period. Christian wasn't behind the scenes, pulling strings, and planning home break-ins. The notion was laughably preposterous.

One thing was clear, however: Christian did not like her working with Blake and she wondered exactly why. Did he know Blake or was it just the way he'd react to any good-looking man working with her? Perhaps there was more to it?

Ugh! No. She was on a vacation of sorts and she was going to enjoy herself and stop trying to overanalyze everything.

The hot water massaged her knotted muscles so effectively she decided to stay in for a while. She began to think about making love with Christian and how the experience transported her to another plane of existence. She was always so focused on him, she hardly ever even thought about her molestation anymore. The thing that had been nagging at her was that he didn't use a condom the last time they were together. From her limited knowledge of the man, it wasn't like Christian to do anything out of oversight but why would it be intentional? She was certain she never got a chance to tell him she was on the pill but they should still use condoms, at least until they'd both gone for a medical screening. As a virgin, she had to be free of STDs but she was sure CG had been around the block more times than he could count on his fingers and toes.

…

Three hours later, they sat in a small _trattoria_ having lunch with Jim, a co-worker at Kate's station. Ana watched her friend interact with this guy who so very obviously was crushing on Kate. He was kinda cute, a ginger boy with long lashes and a kissable mouth. After he left to go back to the station (with the parting comment that "some of us have to work" since Kate took the day off), Kate told me she didn't find him attractive.

"Not because he has red hair?"

Kate frowned. "Of course not. How many times have I told you I'm ready, willing, and able to marry Michael C. Hall?"

"Why then?"

Kate smiled slyly. "Mainly because he's not Michael C. Hall."

Ana chuckled and stirred her coffee, thinking about how to say what she needed to say to Kate. "First he played a gay undertaker and then a serial killer, both very convincingly, I might add. And he's the one you want to marry?"

Kate giggled. "Okay, enough about me. What's on your mind, Ana? I could tell something's eating at you."

Should she spill? Exhaling a deep breath, she went for it. "Kate, do you ever question exactly how you got this plum job? As you said, most journalists have to begin in some bumfuck town and here you are in your first-ever journalistic job and you're in a major city at a network news station. Don't you find it somewhat odd?"

Kate stared at Ana, a smile fixed on her face. "Did you know it's absolutely obscene when you use four-letter words, Ana? It's like Mother Teresa letting loose with a string of 'em. To answer your question, no, why should I? My undergrad degree is in journalism—I graduated _summa cum laude_—and before I was graduated, I filled out countless employment applications. Plus, I signed on for a placement service offered by the college that promised that every time there was any job opening in my field or a related one, my application would be submitted. It was for a period of 90 days, so a fair number of applications went out.

"Plus, I have some experience. I worked at my college newspaper and radio station—I would have worked at their television station had they had one—and with each resume I sent out, I attached a tape of myself interviewing Dave Navarro of the Chili Peppers, since he was dating a friend of a friend and agreed to do it for me. Someone probably saw the tape and liked what he or she saw. Why is that so unbelievable to you?"

Ana shook her head. "It's not unbelievable, just highly unusual. The only reason I question it is because of certain incidents. If not—"

"What incidents?" Kate asked, leaning in closer to Ana across the table. "What's going on?"

Flushing, Ana thought about prevaricating but then reconsidered. Kate was her very best friend and someone should know about Ana's suspicions… just in case. "It's this whole thing with the two break-ins…" She launched into her crazy theory of Christian manipulating everything. Kate listened intently without interruption, seemingly mesmerized by Ana's ideas. When she was finished, Kate patted her mouth daintily with her napkin and cleared her throat.

"Ana, it's not impossible but it is highly improbable. Moreover, how would Mr. Grey snag me this job? He doesn't own the network. It's a publicly traded company."

"That's true." She leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs. "Kate, I'm sorry, I know I'm letting my imagination run wild. It's just that he's so imperious and possessive that I don't put anything past him."

"Maybe you should kick him to the curb if he's messing with your mind so much. Just because he's got more money than the U.S. Treasury doesn't mean he's good husband material."

"Husband material? Now who's getting carried away? I'm just talking friends with benefits here."

"How _are_ the benefits, as long as we're on the topic?"

"Pretty good," Ana said, turning a furious shade of red and they both laughed.

"Kate, I miss you so much," Ana told her when she can speak again, tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. "I'm very happy for your success, but God, I hate that you're living in another state."

"Me, too. Any chance you could move to Chicago?"

"Probably not. Oh, shoot, I was supposed to call Geoffrey about my schedule."

"Geoffrey? We're on first-name basis now?"

"Yes, long past it, actually. I think you were right about him, Kate. He—"

"He what? Tell me. C'mon, Ana, don't leave me hanging. He what?"

Laughing, Ana held up her hands in defense. "Give me a chance. He hid me from Christian when I told him how Christian was acting with me, stashed me in his sister's house. And… he kissed me."

"Kissed? Like made-out kissed or peck-on-the-cheek kissed?"

"Peck on the lips with a quick feel up."

Kate sucked in her breath. "A feel up? One tit or two?"

"Kate!" Ana shook her head but then smiled. "One. Why? What's the difference?"

"Well, one could be a slip but two is a definite."

"No, it was one but it was definite. Trust me."

"So, are you bathing in pheromones or something? What's the deal?"

"I honestly don't know… but life is confusing all of a sudden. Ever notice that things will be on an even keel for so long it gets boring and then shit starts to happen so fast, one thing after another? That's how I feel anyway."

"Tell me about Jose's little sister."

"Oh, she is absolutely fashion-model-gorgeous, Kate. A little rough around the edges though. You know, you can take the girl out of the gang but you can't take the gang out of the girl. But she's trying, truly trying. And she's sweet. I liked her."

"I wish you didn't have to leave tomorrow.

"Me, too."

"Hey, let's get rip roaring drunk tonight. What do you say?"

Ana held up her coffee cup. "Here's to tomorrow's hangovers."

The week flew by so lightning fast, even though Kate had to work three of the five days Ana had in Chicago. At seven a.m. on Saturday her cell phone buzzed loudly. Opening one bleary eye, Ana fumbled for the phone and once grabbing it, tried to see who was calling.

Christian Grey. Figures. She pressed the call button. "Yes?"

"Ana, the plane is at the airport, fueled and ready. I have a car coming to pick you up from Kate's building in a half hour. Will you be ready?"

"Christian, really? You might have given me a heads up. I thought I'd stay until the afternoon or evening."

"I thought you said that Kate had to go to work today?"

"Yes, but… alright. Let me get in the shower so I can be ready soon."

"I'm anxious to see you, Ana. I've missed you."

Sweet. How could she be angry with him when he was being so sweet? "I've missed you, too, Christian. Now, let me go get ready so I can come home soon."

"_Come home_. I like the sound of that, Ana. I'll see you soon."

The phone call provided all the adrenaline she needed to wake up, first with annoyance, and then lust. Coffee, at this point, was redundant.

….

Christian sat at the breakfast bar in his kitchen, sipping a mug of coffee. He felt relieved Ana would be back in Seattle later this morning yet she'd also be back in the crosshairs of that predator professor of hers. He knew it was just a matter of time before Blake made his move. It was almost March now and the semester was over in mid-May. He would almost certainly wait until then so he wouldn't jeopardize his job… but once the grades were submitted, he'd almost surely try to seduce Ana. _His_ Ana! The very idea infuriated him.

Christian had won the battle for her virginity but the war for her love was yet to be fought. He'd almost ruined his chances by allowing her to witness him losing his temper. A good card player knows when to show—he should know that. He had to be more careful.

Mmm, the coffee was excellent this morning, he thought, as he took another sip. He had to remember to tell Maria that he appreciated her efforts. She must have switched brands. Considering he had one of the best coffee machines available, an integrated Miele, it damn well should be good coffee.

Wouldn't it be just excellent if he'd managed to impregnate her when he slipped into her without a raincoat? What were the odds on that, he wondered? He thought he remembered reading somewhere that a woman has a twenty-five percent chance of getting pregnant in any given month. That was if the timing was right. He had no idea… but he would make note of her cycle as soon as possible and keep track of it. Pregnancy was an almost surefire way he could get her to marry him and marrying her was thing he needed to do to clinch the deal. A pregnancy would force her hand most likely. Without something so compelling, it would be considerably difficult to convince her. She was, after all, still quite young.

But convince her he would… one way or another. He fucking would.

….

When the plane landed at the private airfield, there was a dark car waiting on the tarmac. Ana knew it was Stephen in that car. She sort of despised Christian's driver and didn't like it when she was required to ride with him. That said, she was glad for any ride home and one thing she would say about the man was that he was punctual. As soon as the plane rolled to a stop, the doors opened and Stephen waited by the stairs.

"Hello, Ms. Steele. How was your trip?"

"Very nice, thank you, Stephen. And how are you?"

"Quite well, Ms. Steele. Come, I'll get you situated in the car and then I'll come back for your bags."

"I don't need situating, Stephen. It may come as a surprise to you but I'm perfectly capable of getting into a car myself."

Stephen's eyes lit with amusement. "Very good but please indulge me in this one courtesy." He escorted her to the car and reached to open the door and then Ana forgot about Stephen entirely for sitting in the backseat in all his suited glory was Christian Grey.

Ana would be lying if, first, she denied that he looked delectably good and second, that she was very happy to see him. Both were true and further, her legs went stupidly weak when he smiled upon seeing her. She folded herself into the seat next to him and Stephen closed the door. As soon as the door clicked shut, he reached for her hand.

"I missed you," he said simply.

"I have to admit that I missed you, too, Christian."

He arched his brows, surprised. "Does it hurt to admit that?"

She tried her best to hide her amusement and keep her face solemn. "Yes, I'm afraid it does at times."

"Why might that be?" His eyes held mirth so that was a good thing.

She leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Believe it or not, you have a tendency toward a short temper."

"_Moi_?" he said, rearing back as if in total shock.

She grinned. "_Oui._ I'm afraid it's true. But, don't worry: I suspect I'm up for the challenge."

"Oh, you'd better be." He pulled her close and nuzzled his face into her hair. "Mmm, you smell as good as you look, Ana. I truly did miss you. Can you stay with me tonight?"

"I should get home and do laundry and errands… but I can come back later. Would that work?"

"What time?"

"When you leave the office."

"I was planning on leaving early to spend the day with you."

"Oh? What time were you thinking?"

"Now."

"Oh. Well, I suppose errands and laundry could wait until tomorrow."

He smiled. "Very good. Let's go back to my place and have brunch and then we can decide how to spend the day. We could go for a drive or a boat ride. Whatever you would like," he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Later, during lunch, he picked up the conversation about Chicago.

"Tell me about your trip. How is Kate?"

Ana swallowed the last bite of salad and patted her mouth with the linen napkin. "She's doing great. Really great." Her glance swiveled up, looked him squarely in the eyes and watched his reaction as she said the next words. "I finally found out what her new job is all about."

Nothing. He gave her nothing at all.

"Oh?"

"I now understand why she wanted to keep it on the down low."

"Ana, do you have any idea what that expression refers to?" He was trying to hide his burgeoning grin.

"It means quiet. Right?"

He cleared his throat. "The popular meaning refers to men—men who self-identify as heterosexual—who go trolling for… _action_… with other men—on the DL."

Ana felt her cheeks go nuclear. "Oh. Scratch that then. But you get my drift, anyway."

"Yes. So? Are you going to tell me or allow me to perish in suspense?"

Again she trained her eyes on him but she saw nothing but genuine and mild interest. "She's the newest reporter for a major network news station in Chicago." She intentionally omitted which station, using a police technique her friend's father taught them years ago of withholding details. She never knew back then how handy that information would become.

"That is a coup for such a young, inexperienced woman. How did she manage it, do you know?"

"No clue. Apparently they found one of her resumes that was floating around and liked what they saw. Hired her on the spot, immediately after a Skype interview."

"Well, good for her. I hope she succeeds." He leaned down to kiss her hair.

"Come. Let's take our wine and sit in the great room."

Ana followed him out of the dining room into the huge living room area. Music was floating in softly from the speakers mounted outside the open balcony doors.

"This voice sounds familiar. Norah Jones?"

"Her voice is so distinctive you can never mistake it for anyone else."

"True. Now it's your turn: what have you been doing while I've been away?"

"Working. As always."

"No recreational time?"

"None."

"Aw, poor Christian. Play is important."

He patted the sofa next to him and she moved from her chair to sit beside him. "Now that we've established I'm in need of play, would you help take care of that for me?"

Smiling shyly, she tried to join his playful banter. "Why, I wouldn't have a clue where to begin."

"Oh," he breathed, yanking her closer until you could barely fit a nail file between their bodies, "I can show you where to begin, baby." He took her hand and put it on the hard bulge behind his pants zipper.

He put his lips to her ear. "I'm dreaming of a tight, warm, wet place where I can let it out to play. Know of any?"

He was getting so bold with her, Ana thought. Before they first made love, he was so circumspect, so careful with his language. She just wasn't sure if this new trend was positive or negative. "Christian, while we're on the subject of my, ahem, assets… why didn't you wear a condom the last time we were together?"

"I apologize, Ana. I got caught up in the heat of the moment."

"It's okay. It's just that… well, I know you must have… known many women. I… don't know how—"

"You're concerned about the health ramifications and you have every right to be. I'm screened every six months when I get a physical exam. My last exam was five weeks ago. Moreover, I've always used protection with every single partner. I cannot recall the last time I went bareback, so to speak. Only with you."

Ana couldn't help but blush at the intense look he was giving her. "Okay. I suppose no harm, no foul."

"I hope it wasn't a dangerous time of the month?"

She waved her hand in dismissal. "Oh, don't worry about that aspect. I've been on birth control for almost three years now."

Christian attempted a neutral expression even though the information infuriated him. "Really? Why is that?"

"Many women take BC for medical reasons. I happen to be one of them. It's one reason why it's so unfair that insurance companies refuse to cover it."

"I suppose that's a relief. Do you want children... eventually?"

"Oh, absolutely. Not for a long while, though. I plan to travel extensively before even contemplating settling down." She cocked her head and peered into his eyes. "How about you? Do you want kids?"

"Honestly, I've never given it much thought… mainly because I've never been interested in marrying anyone. I suppose if I decide to marry, I'd give it serious consideration."

….

Ana felt the bed move and reluctantly opened her eyes. Christian had leapt out of bed and was frenetically darting about the room. "What's up?"

His head whipped around and she saw his hair was wet. "I overslept! I cannot remember the last time it's happened to me."

He stalked toward her, narrowing his eyes. "You, my dear, are a very bad influence on me. I have an extremely important meeting at eleven and thus an extremely important staff meeting at 9:45. Not to mention that Stephen must be available to meet Mr. Nakazato at the airport at ten-fifteen."

"What time is it now?"

"Almost eight-thirty… but I have to still go home and change." He smiled wryly as he pulled on his jeans and tee shirt. "If I'd known you were going to have your wicked way with me all night, I'd have brought a suit with me."

Ana grinned and rolled her eyes. Christian had insisted on coming over when she was adamant about finally going home, spending the evening in her condo, unpacking and doing laundry. So she allowed him to come with her and she grudgingly admitted to herself that it had been nice. Beyond nice, actually. Ever since she'd returned from visiting Kate in Chicago, he'd been on his best behavior. Last night, while Ana was busily doing laundry and cleaning the apartment, Christian had grocery-shopped and made dinner for them. He'd been telling the truth when he claimed to know how to cook.

All the while she'd been vacuuming and dusting, she'd been smelling the delicious aromas wafting out of the kitchen and when they sat down to dine, she saw he'd made baked chicken, penne with a white pesto, and a Greek salad.

She took one bite of the pasta and her eyes widened in astonishment. "Christian, this pasta is excellent! It's perfectly _al dente_ and the sauce is delicious."

He was placing his linen napkin on his knee and he smirked at her compliment. "It's a bit insulting just how surprised you are. Did you think I was lying when I told you I could cook?"

She tilted her head, her eyes full of merriment. "Not lying, per se, but possibly exaggerating."

"Tsk, tsk, never underestimate me, Ana. I assure you I'm quite a formidable man."

His comment was like an iron weight dropping on the fun and just like that the levity was gone. "I'll keep that in mind."

Now he was grabbing for his keys, in a mad rush to get out of here. "I'll call you later, sweetling." He bent to give her a kiss.

About an hour later, as she stepped out of the shower, her phone chimed. _Grey Holdings_. "Yes?"

"Ana, I just arrived at the office and realized I don't have my Blackberry. Please tell me it's at your place?"

"Hold on. I'll look." She searched the bedroom. _Nada_. Retracing their steps from the evening before, she hurried into the kitchen and then the hallway; almost immediately she spied it on the foyer table. "Yes, Christian. It's here."

"Thank God. Okay. I'll send Stephen later in the day to pick it up. What time will you be home?"

"You don't have to do that, Christian. I'm going to be near your office later today. I'll drop it by."

"Why will you be in the area?"

"Oh, my therapist from back home is in town and wants to see me. She's using borrowed space from a colleague and it's only a few blocks from you, I think."

"Alright," his answer came slowly, as if he was uncertain. "What time will that occur?"

"No later than three since I need to be with her by four."

"I'll see you then. Please ensure that you deliver it to me personally, Ana. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how much I wouldn't want the device in the wrong hands, password protected or not."

"Aye-aye, sir. Until then."

The day seemed endless and by two o'clock Ana was dragging her heels. Geoffrey was in a foul mood, which only added to the misery of the day. Ana felt he sensed the fact that she was seeing Christian again and he didn't like it. He hadn't said anything about it yet. When she began to get ready to leave early, having told him about her appointment, things came to a head.

"Will you be able to work tomorrow, Ana?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I thought maybe your imperious boyfriend might forbid it."

Ana's face burned with guilt and… shame. She actually did feel ashamed that she went back to Christian after everything that went down, including Geoffrey's extra efforts to assist her.

"I'm sorry, Geoffrey. Truly. I realize you went to great lengths to help me keep away from him but he's just so very persistent. He just keeps on me, night and day, until I cave. If it's any consolation, he's been on his best behavior since you interceded in my behalf."

"So he knew about that, did he?"

"Yes, I believe so. I… things are complicated with us, Christian and I, and I can't really explain to you how without divulging a lot of private information. It's just not appropriate, given our positions here at school. Perhaps when the semester is over we could go out for lunch or dinner and I can explain it more fully."

Geoffrey rose from his chair and walked over to her, placing his hand on the door and leaning his weight onto it to prevent her from leaving. "Is that a promise, Ana?" he breathed the words in a soft voice, inches away from her face.

Her head jerking up and down, she licked her lips nervously and said, "Yes. Of course. You've been a good friend; you deserve an explanation for my seemingly stupid behavior."

"It's not stupid to fall for someone. But… I'd like you to consider the possibility that you… fell… for… the… wrong… man." He enunciated each word while his index finger on his free hand punctuated them by poking her gently.

Ana flushed and smiled. "I have nothing to say to that, Geoffrey so I'll say good afternoon and I'll see you tomorrow?" Her voice was breathless.

"Yes, Ana. I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night."

…..

Before she stepped through the main entrance, Ana took a moment to admire the building. It was a 10-story red-brick building, new, though made to look antique and thus fit in comfortably with the neighboring buildings. Attention was paid to architectural flourishes such as cornices, eaves, and window surrounds, but the crowning glory was the frieze of bas relief ornamentation carved into the stone cornices, topped by a cresting of iron. Ana had studied architecture as an undergrad and she was impressed by how much time and money went into the details of the Grey building.

The Grey_ building_: Christian owned the whole thing. He must have had it built to house the main office of his multinational corporation. She pushed through the massive smoked glass door and found herself in a pristine lobby of marble and dark wood wainscoting, like the banks of old. There were two people manning a long desk in front of the two banks of elevators—a man and a woman. Both were perfectly groomed in the corporate mold. Ana looked down at her own wardrobe, feeling inadequate all of a sudden.

She was wearing a green and blue plaid jumper with a white shirt, navy blue tights and black mid-calf biker boots. Her hair was loose and probably messy. Over it she wore a lightweight car coat. Typical co-ed attire.

The plastic-looking woman smiled at her—the fakest smile Ana had ever seen.

"May I help you?" her voice was cultured and smooth.

"Yes. I'm here to see Mr. Grey."

"Mr. Grey?" the woman repeated, somewhat incredulously. "May I have your name, please?"

Ana spared a glance at the man on the other end of the desk. He too was looking at her but not with the same disdain as the platinum blond woman. Ana wasn't quite sure how to read his expression. "Ana," she said, turning back to the woman, "Ana Steele. He's expecting me."

"One moment." The woman wore a headset and she punched a button on a console and began speaking. "This is Kirby. There's a Ms. Ana Steele here for Mr. Grey. She said she's expected."

Ana watched as the woman's attitude morphed, going from a superior smile to a respectful demeanor. It was satisfying.

"Ms. Steele, if you will take the elevators on your right," she gestured to the bank behind the man, "to the tenth floor, you will be directed to Mr. Grey's office."

"Thank you," Ana replied with a genuine smile. Now that she'd won the encounter, she could afford to be friendly. She walked briskly to the elevator where the empty car awaited her.

The elevator came to a stop with a ding and the doors slid silently open to reveal a beautiful reception room. Christian does have excellent taste, she thought. His assistants on the top floor must have been apprised that she was a VIP for they immediately attended to her, offering her refreshments and escorting her to his office directly.

When she stepped into the spacious office, Christian was on a call. He waved her in, never taking his probing eyes off her while he conducted his conversation.

"The price sounds inflated to me, Josh. I suspect we could pick it up for pennies on the dollar if we wait a while before showing interest. They've nowhere to go but down."

As he listened to the voice on the other end, his steely eyes stayed on Ana like glue, making her uneasy.

"That's a risk we'll have to take. If we jump in now, we'll pay for it, one way or another. Just hold off, trust me. In any waiting game, we'll come out on top. I have no doubt. Take your wife out to see a show and forget about it for now. Yes. Keep me apprised."

He disconnected from the call and stepped around the large wood and glass desk. Grasping her hands, he pulled her to her feet. "Hello, beautiful Ana. Thank you for bringing my phone to me." He leaned down to kiss her and then held out his hand for the Blackberry.

She surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him back—really kissing him. "I had a wonderful night last night, Christian. Just sayin'.

"Did you now? I appreciate hearing about it. Might we repeat it tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know. My dance card might be already filled up. I'll have to get back to you." She tried her diligent best to keep a straight face but failed miserably.

His eyes gleamed in response to her playfulness. "That dance card better have only my name on it or I'll have some fighting to do."

"Would you fight for me, Christian?" She cocked her head as she looked up at him.

He narrowed his eyes. "Never doubt it, baby. Never." He kissed her again, both hands sliding down her back till they rested on her rear, squeezing tightly. "Now, hand over the Blackberry and take your leave before I bend you over the desk and peel those tights off your juicy parts."

His dirty words instantly evoked an image and, cheeks burning, she made haste to leave though a part of her would like to act out that scenario. As Ana quickly left the building, she felt eyes everywhere, following her progress. Haven't they ever seen Christian with a girlfriend before? She wondered. Though she hated to think of him with another woman, she was realistic enough to know it had happened and probably quite a lot. But all of these people, his staff, were staring at her as if she were an exotic oddity. What gives?

….

She fidgeted in her chair in the reception room, nervous about her appointment. Ana hadn't seen Dr. Richards since she moved to Seattle but had promised to find a new therapist once she was settled and put them in touch. That hadn't happened yet so Dr. Richards decided if the mountain wouldn't come to Mohammed—she'd attended a conference in Portland and decided to swing over to Seattle to see her favorite client.

"Ms. Steele? Dr. Richards can see you now."

Ana nearly leaped out of her chair at the receptionist's call. The heels of her shoes sank into the carpet as she walked past the first door, tentatively entering the second on the left. Dr. Richards was borrowing the luxurious office space from a colleague.

"Ana. It's very good to see you.""

"Hello, Dr. Richards. It's good to see you too."

"Please have a seat, Ana." She gestured and patiently waited until Ana got herself situated before she continued. "Tell me about your life, here, Ana. How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you. I suppose the biggest news is that I broke my block."

"You did? That's progress certainly. Are you involved in a relationship?"

"Yes, I suppose I am. It's complicated though."

Dr. Richards laughed. "Yes, most relationships are."

"He's a very important man, older than I, and very… forceful I suppose is a good way to describe him. Still, he was… gentle with me and managed to get me past my block."

"Did you two work on it? Or was it something organic that just occurred?"

"It was our second attempt. The first one ended the usual way…"

"I see. Now that you've succeeded in getting past the block—that was your first priority last we spoke—would you like to revisit the years you lost after the incident?"

Ana felt her heart rate spike. "I guess. I've told you many times before, I didn't _lose_ them—they just sort of went by without me noticing much."

"Do you recall telling me of the man you used to watch?"

"Oh, God. Yes. I'd actually forgotten about him. What about him?"

"Do you still hold him up as an ideal?"

"No," she shook her head, eyes troubled. "I didn't even remember him until you mentioned it. God."

"Okay, let's move on. When you—"

"No. Let's talk about him for a minute. What did I tell you about him?"

"You weren't sure if he was a fantasy or a real person. You used to see him when you went to your grandparents' home. You said he was important and wealthy and that you were going to marry him someday… only you were too young for him. Do you not recall?"

"Yes, now I do. Why did you bring him up?"

"I always felt you were holding yourself up to an ideal. He was your ideal and until you met someone like him, someone powerful and important, your block would remain in place. Now you describe your lover as powerful and important. I'm interested in the connection."

"Honestly, I never thought about it. I met this man by sheer chance and I don't even know why he noticed me in the first place."

"Why? Do you think you're unnoticeable?"

"No. It's just that I was wait staff and he was a guest at the event. Turned out, he was the very one they were honoring at the event. I didn't know that at the time. I guess it's because I wasn't dressed to impress or anything and I was sort of lingering in the shadows. Frankly, I still wonder what he saw in me."

"Perhaps you should ask him?"

"Perhaps."

"Tell me how the relationship is progressing now that it's become intimate."

"I feel as if he thinks he owns me now… you know, because I gave him my virginity."

"And how does that make you feel?"

Ana took a moment to really think about it, trying her best to be honest… with Dr. Richards and herself. "I suppose on the one hand, it makes me resentful, as if I'm just another piece of chattel he's acquired. On the other hand, I feel sort of, I don't know, protected, in a sense. He's possessive… but it's usually in a good way. Not always, though."

"Why do you say that?"

"We had an incident. My condo was broken into twice. Christian wanted me to stay with him. When I went to a friend's house instead—a male friend's house—he went berserk… in his way, anyway."

"What do you mean by _in his way_?"

Ana's voice drops to a near whisper as she recalls Christian's reaction, his ugly words. "He became verbally abusive and then locked me in his library until I saw things his way. Eventually, he calmed down and apologized. I left his place the next morning and avoided him for a week. My professor who is also my boss now helped me keep away from him."

"What happened after a week?"

"I broke down and called him… I missed him for some warped reason."

The session went downhill from there because Dr. Richards became somewhat alarmed by Ana's description of Christian's behavior. It was exhausting but Ana appreciated her concern and she wasn't heavy handed as Ana's mother or father would be if they knew. Or, God forbid, her grandfather.

Dredging the whole thing up, though, removed any desire to see Christian anytime soon so she was glad she begged off for tonight. It was as if he were on a campaign to suffocate her with attention. After she'd left his office, he called to ask her to go straight to his place and away from his intimidating presence, she was able to say no more easily. She convinced him by saying it was a bad time of the month and she was having cramps and migraines. It wasn't entirely a lie.

In bed that night, as she tossed and turned, she began to remember the man she used to watch and fantasize about, the one Dr. Richards reminded her of during their session. How could she have forgotten him?

Every time she went to her grandparents' house, she'd see him in the morning or evening. Sometimes, she'd set her little travel alarm clock—a gift from Grandpa—to six a.m. and get up to wait by the hall window to watch as he left for work. She was only eleven years old at the time. She could even remember how she felt when she'd spot him: her heart rate would pick up, and she'd hear her pulse thundering past her ears. She'd get a little sweaty and even shaky. She liked this boy, man, whatever. He was much older than her but she wouldn't be a kid forever. In fact, she wanted to hurry and grow up so she could marry him before anyone else did. Her biggest mistake had been sharing that secret with her mother.

When her mother caught her at it one morning, she became worried. Ana knew it upset her mother because she'd overheard a conversation her mom had with her grandmother about it.

"Mom, I'm worried sick about Ana. It seems like the molestation sexualized her before her time. She's been watching your neighbor's son—a grown man—leaving for work every morning. She told me she's going to marry him."

"Don't worry darling. It's normal for a girl to have romantic longings."

"She's eleven for God's sake, Mom. _Eleven_."

"Sweetheart, listen to me. Adults do their best to deny children their sexuality. It makes them too uncomfortable because it seems to just encourage the deviants among us, the pedophiles. No one wants to admit it, indeed acknowledge that it exists. But it does. Children are sexual almost from birth. Humans are sexual beings. Now, it could be the incident did cause her to react more strongly. So let her be; allow Ana to deal with it as she does—with Dr. Richards' oversight and guidance, of course."

At that moment her grandfather had come in and overheard the last part of the conversation. "Deal with what?"

"Oh, your daughter is just worried about Ana. She's been watching our neighbor's son every morning and says she's going to marry him."

"Not _him_?"

Her grandmother nodded.

"I'll break every last bone in his body before he gets near my little Ana. That family is bad to the bone."

"Now stop it. You cannot blame the father's sins on the son. It wasn't his fault…and I hardly think a young man in his twenties is going to be interested in an eleven-year-old girl. There's no reason to think he's a predator and you know it. Be realistic."

Her grandfather had hmphed and stomped out of the room as only such a big man can. Ana knew from the shouting matches, sometimes between her parents, sometimes her grandparents, sometimes all of them, that they felt impotent about what happened to her with Aunt Lauren's _friend_. Her grandfather sometimes said he was looking for the man. Ana hoped he wouldn't find him because she just wanted to blot it all from her mind.

But Grandma was right. She did have sexual longings, long before she knew what sex was all about, even before the "incident." When Aunt Lauren's friend—the predator—first began to touch her in her room that night… at first she liked it. She thought he was being friendly and nice. His hands on her skin were soothing. It was only when he began to undress her that she panicked and understood that what he was doing was bad. She'd lived with that shame and guilt for years, guilt that maybe her bad thoughts had brought it on, that she herself was to blame.

Ana never knew what Grandpa meant by "not him." She should ask him next time she spoke to him. What was wrong with that young man she was fixated on? He was so tall, so handsome. Ana couldn't remember his face… but she remembered the one time she'd caught his eye and he'd smiled at her. It was a smile so dazzling it nearly blinded her with brightness. He made her pulse race, her heart beat faster, _all systems go_. Grandma was right: children are sexual. Ana remembered having sexual fantasies of a sort even before she knew what sex was, how the act was done. Even before… the incident.

Pushing those unwelcome thoughts aside, she again focused on her young man, her eleven-year-old-girl obsession. Who was he and what was he doing now, she wondered?

She fell asleep then, only to have unsettling dreams, waking her up numerous times throughout the night.

The next morning her car decided it wasn't going anywhere. Shit! She looked at her watch. Geoffrey wouldn't be in the office yet but he'd given her his cell number. He was under deadline to finish the latest chapters by tomorrow, noon. She simply could not miss work today.

"Geoffrey? It's me, Ana."

"What's up and don't tell me you're not coming in?"

"No… but my car won't start. I'll be late and I don't know how late."

"You're going to miss classes?"

"I'm not sure what to do. I live in a two-fare zone. It'll take me forever on public transportation."

"I'm coming to get you. Give me the address."

The professor must drive very fast because he pulled up in front of her building less than twenty minutes later in a black F-type Jaguar. He reached across and opened the door for her and as soon as he did, the loud music came at her.

"Pearl Jam at this hour of the morning?"

He shrugged, smiling that Geoffrey smile, winsome and wolfish, somehow at the same time. "I need the adrenaline to wake up. I'm trying to give up coffee so I've been using music and speed."

At her arched brow, he quickly added, "Speed as in miles per hour not the drug."

As soon as she strapped on her seatbelt, he took off.

….

When the call came in from Christian, Ana decided not to answer; she'd call him back on her break. They were insanely busy today and as luck would have it, every student in the whole program had a problem today. When Ana finally staggered out of the office to use the restroom a few minutes before five, she grabbed her phone and called Christian back.

"Hey, it's me. I saw you called earlier."

"Yes. Where were you?"

"I must have stepped out. We're crazed today because Geof… uh, the professor is under deadline with his book. What's going on with you?"

"Same shit, different day. Can you come over tonight?"

"I can't, Christian. My car is misbehaving."

"How so?"

"It wouldn't start this morning. I haven't a clue why. I had it towed to my mechanic and he hasn't gotten back to me yet."

"How did you get to school?"

Ana could hear in his cadence the rising hostility. Shit. She didn't think this through and it was going to cost her. "Blake picked me up. I called him to tell him I was going to be very late and he was still in the car so he detoured and came and got me."

"How very convenient." His tone could chill cocktails.

"Um, let me call my mechanic and get back to you. Okay?"

"No need, Ana. I'm already on my way to pick you up. I'll be in front of the building in ten. Be waiting please." He disconnected.

Even before the black Vanquish swerved to a stop in front of her, the music inside it was so totally cranked that Ana could not only hear but feel the booming bass—it rattled in her teeth and body. It blared from the car, with not even a cracked open window. When Christian leaned over and opened the passenger door for her, _Seven Nation Army_ nearly blasted out her eardrums. She slid into the passenger seat, unwilling to look at him, much less say anything. Instead, she listened to the song as the lyrics screamed into her head. Wryly, she thought the White Stripes song could be his fucking anthem.

He waited long enough for her to strap in and then took off, tires peeling away from the asphalt. Ana didn't need any more evidence that he was beyond pissed off and wondered if Jack White would soothe his savage beast or feed it. Unfortunately, she was relatively certain it was the latter.

Not a single word was spoken the entire way to his building. Briefly, Ana considered asking him to drive her home but knew she'd be taking her life into her hands if she did. Meek acquiescence was the path of least resistance here and she hoped her quiet presence would serve to calm him, even a little, because she was scared, scared of him, her heart thrashing against her chest wall. Between the music and her agitation, the furiously pumping organ felt ready to explode.

Relief finally came when he pulled into the underground garage of his apartment building and turned into his spot. Pushing off the ignition button plunged the car into silence, made all the more marked by the contrast with the loud music preceding it. Still looking straight ahead, through the windshield, he finally spoke.

"I'm marshaling all of my personal resources to calm down before we discuss today's events. Please show me the courtesy of quiet because I'm very upset right now, Ana."

"That's fine," she muttered, feeling her own anger escalate. Who the fuck did he think he was, anyway? He did not own her, nor did he have any right to dictate with whom she associated. For perhaps the thirtieth time or so since she met the man, she regretted ever having anything to do with him.

Taking her elbow, he escorted her to his private elevator and they stepped in. Uncomfortable was the only adjective that came to Ana's mind so she tried to distract herself by looking at him. He stood next to her like a statue, staring straight ahead at the stainless steel and wood elevator doors. He was wearing dark grey suit trousers that were slightly rumpled—an unusual state of affairs for him—and a very pale blue shirt, so pale it was nearly white. He'd removed his tie and jacket and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, rolling the sleeves up his arms to just below the elbow. His hair, always held pristinely in place with product, was disheveled, and as stern as his face appeared, he also looked tired. What was going on with Mr. Grey?

Despite his less than stellar appearance, he looked as hot as they come. Even though she was pissed at him, Ana felt heat roll down her spine and settle into her female regions. She hated herself for it… but she couldn't help it. His unquestionable masculinity spoke directly to her girl parts and no matter how much her brain might hate the man, her body was madly in love with him. Therein lies the rub, she thought, figuring this kind of thing must happen to a lot of women. How much bullshit do women put up with on a daily basis because they want to get laid by a specific man? A lot, she'd wager. Alright then, Grey, bring it on.

He steered her into his library—the dreaded room—and closed the door behind them. Pointing to a chair, he told her to sit. She complied.

He crossed his arms and stood immediately in front of her, looking down at her face. "Now. May I ask you why the instant you have a problem, you call your professor instead of me—the man, you may recall, you happen to be fucking?" His tone was contemptuous and he purposely enunciated the profanity to shock her.

And he did.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "Christian, he's not merely my professor but also my employer, as you may recall. I was going to be late for work. I needed to let him know. He offered to swing by and get me since he was on his way to school. I agreed. That was the extent of it. There was absolutely no reason for me to call and disturb you. None."

There was no response from him. After a few seconds had elapsed, Ana opened her eyes and looked at him. She probably should have left them closed. He was unmoving and his body was tense, poised to strike and hopefully not at her.

But it was his face that took her aback most: the skin was taut, his eyes were blazing, his lips pulled tight in a straight line. He looked furious… so she said nothing, not another syllable.

Suddenly he turned around and stalked out of the room. Ana wasn't sure how to proceed but she decided to just sit tight and wait. Reaching down for her bag, she took out one of her textbooks to get some reading done for her next class.

….

Christian was seething. He'd felt the black rage coming at him, rolling toward him like a giant ocean wave and he knew he had to get away from the girl before he did something he'd regret. Before he ever let Ana see his true colors, they needed to be bound together by the law, and as soon as that occurred, he'd have her sign over powers of attorney, medical and otherwise, to him. Only then might he dare let her see him lose control.

Only a handful of people had seen him at his worst… and he'd wager they'd never forget it. In the library, the temptation was titanic to grab her by the hair and yell into her face. She didn't seem to be able to hear him otherwise. Perhaps screaming at her from a distance of two inches might help?

He'd been seconds away from acting on that impulse when he wheeled around and got out of the room _tout de suite_. He'd never struck a woman yet but he'd come painfully close more than once… and just now, he'd wanted to slap her very badly, perhaps knock some sense into her. How could she be so stupid?

That bastard Blake wanted one and only one thing: to get her in bed and it would be over Christian's dead body that he'd succeed. But watching and guarding the girl was proving to be exhausting and infuriating and he was sick of it. He wanted her to quit her job, quit school, and move in with him. He wanted her to marry him. Once he'd decided that Ana was the one he wanted, it was full steam ahead.

Nothing and no one would stand in his way.

He stalked over to the bar and poured himself two fingers of scotch. He took the first sip it and it was like liquid gold sliding down his throat. He normally would like to savor it, sipping it slowly, but today he needed the punch right away so he chugged the rest, took a deep breath, and prepared to go back into the library.

When he walked in, Ana was deep into a book. Striding over to her, he took the book out of her hands, placing it on the other chair, and pulled her to her feet.

"Come with me," he said, his tone of voice cautioning her not to argue. She meekly followed him as he led her into the hall, up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"Christian," she finally said, biting her bottom lip nervously as her mind scrabbled for how to proceed, "why are we in the bedroom? I thought we were to have a discussion."

"Right now I don't feel capable of reasoned discussion, Ana. I'm upset, as I told you earlier. Right now, I want to throw you on the bed, have your pretty tits in my hands and mouth, and fuck you into tomorrow. Is that okay with you?"

She should say no. She should tell him to go fuck _himself_. But as she stood there listening to him speak to her in that manner, with those words, her knees went weak and she staggered as lust streaked through her body's core.

He saw.

He saw and he took her arm, flinging her onto the bed and followed her down. He nearly ripped her shirt open, unbuttoning it so fast and so roughly that buttons were lost. Before it was even fully open, he dragged down her bra, savaging her breasts with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. She cried out but wasn't sure if it was in pain or pleasure. The only thing she knew for certain was that she wanted more.

He gave it to her.

Spurred on by her response, he grazed his teeth over her throat, sinking them into her neck just below the collar line. She cried out in pain.

"That hurts, Christian."

"I know it hurts, Ana. I want you to feel. Just close your eyes and feel… everything—everything I do, everything I give you."

He slid down and opened her jeans, pulling them off and tossing them across the room. He bit her through her panties and then ripped the satiny fabric with his teeth, finishing the job with his hands. He alternately licked, kissed, and bit her until she could no longer separate pain from pleasure and then he flipped her around, pulling her ass up and got behind her. He wanted her in this subordinate position because this is what he desired: for her to be subordinate to him. This time it was symbolic; next time it would be actual, he thought, as he swiveled his hips back and slammed into her.

Ana shrieked in pain and shock but didn't stop him. It was a sweet hurt and one she craved. No one but a man like Christian could pull it off quite so successfully but every time he pummeled her, she wanted more, needed more. It felt as if each time pushed her up a cliff just a little bit higher. She had yet to attain the top but she could almost see it. Up, up, up, until finally, she hit the apex and came undone.

She couldn't see his face as he met his orgasm but she could hear it. The primal male sounds issuing forth from him made her crazed with lust—her body revving so hot she was sure steam was rising off her back. Seconds before he hit the wall, he reached around and pinched her at the same time he let out a chest-deep moan, and Ana climaxed again with him.

Later they ate dinner on the terrace with a heater since the night was nippy. Christian had calmed down—it's amazing how calming an orgasm can be—and he was more his charming self. They'd been laughing over a joke Ana shared when Christian suddenly reached for her chair and dragged it over the blue stone, bringing it close to him. He leaned in until his face was inches from hers and he held her head in his hands.

"Marry me, Ana. Be mine, for once and for all. I'll take care of you, see to your every need, and I promise I'll make you happy. All of these bumps in the road we've been having are due to my discomfort over your being with other men. Remove that from the equation and there's nothing left but love and joy, Ana. Will you marry me?"


End file.
